By R. A. Melos
The veil is lifted and the two worlds collide.
Man must face himself, his mysteries, truths and lies.
The maiden and the nobleman, the merchant banker and the king.
Each must face the minstrel, and discover of their own lives what tales he will sing.
For the maiden will he sing of tales of love? Or more of loves unrequited?
Will he sing of children raised on faith? Or of children with souls cynically blighted?
Will her's be a song of a happy life? Perhaps that of a nobleman's wife?
Or will she be playing second fiddle to the queen, a royal's mistress, condemned to a life
When she faces the minstrel will it be at her own hand?
Or will it be after a life lived grand?
For the nobleman, will the minstrel sing a tale of strife and woe?
Or will it be of a tilled garden well sowed?
Will there be a string of maids, all with broken hearts?
And a flock of bastard children, with malice in their hearts?
Or will his life be sung as a tale of joy and mirth?
A tale his grandchildren's grandchildren will repeat of his wonderous time on earth?
For the merchant banker, will his song be soulless and cold, of a life lived alone?
Or will it be a tale of the fortunes he has grown?
Will it be a harsh cold tale of end justifying the means?
Or will it be the tale of another accountant who grew tired of counting the beans?
And oh, what wonders will the minstrel sing of the king?
Will his be the tale of the crusades he led? Or a bawdy tale of the maids he attempted to
Will it be a tale of a benevolent soul? Or the tale of a ruler with a heart black as coal?
Will the kings song differ so greatly from the merchant banker, maiden or nobleman's tale?
For any of these good people will there be someone left behind to wail?
And what of you and I, my friend so dear?
When we pass through the vail, from the minstrel, what tales shall we hear?
Have our songs been lived to be well sung?
Or will the tales leave us shamed, standing with our proud heads hung?
What lessons have we learned?
What knowledge do we possess?
What greatness do we aspire to, before we go to rest?
Alas, when we face the minstrel, it will be much too late.
That will not be the time to consider our fate.
So, now go my friends, and live out things for which you will be proud to hear the
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