The Ploy's the ThingI once was called the Bard of Avalon.
I once compelled the crowds to stop and heed
My every word; no listener was immune.
No peasant worker, wealthy man, or king
Escaped my power when once my spell was cast.
I was a god.
That seems so long ago.
The Globe has failed; the creditors have not.
They took it all and sold me to the fates.
Disgraced, I watched my patrons fall away
And now I must compete for meager wages.
Those oh so fragile words defy my touch.
Although with fire I lash their stubborn backs,
They will not bow nor follow my commands
As they in calm obedience once did.
They droop across the page, they howl, they jeer…
And their defiance I cannot endure.
Their reverence for me must be restored—
If not by force, then tenderness, or wit.
With comedy, their hearts I shall regain;
With tragedy, their souls I will subdue.
My world has changed, and so must I… or fail.
I shall again rule hearts that once were mine…
For I was once the Bard of Avalon.