The Jester of Hearts

In a time of sorrow, the ending of his second marriage, he reflected upon the isolation of his heart from those in his life. Not the warmest vision he has expressed, but an honest statement of a time of sadness, regret and pain. A little indulgence in self-pity can be a powerful healing tool.

The Jester of Hearts

The Amomancer bares his soul
for the pleasure of the crowd.
He weaves each word so it is heard
as whispered, and yet loud.
The princesses they squeal and clap
and sigh upon his heart.
And yet he is as stone, alone,
and left upon his part.

For there is no true paramour
for him to feel their heat.
And fires, pyres and bright desires
come to ashes and defeat.
The jester for the hungry thoughts
that stir and entertain:
The Amomancer sits alone
and weeps from every vein.

And yet, this ancient summoner
of blood and sweat and pain,
can never step from in the light
and seek a setting stain.
Lightning flashes 'cross the sky
and yet cannot be caught.
And so it is with what he found
in places long forgot.

A fallen clown can make us laugh,
just tugging on a rope.
But he who brings to us our hearts
is barren, without hope.
His soul, it catches radiance,
and bends it back, like light.
But the other side of that mirror
is an unenviable night.

The Amomancer bares his soul
for the pleasure of the crowd.
He weaves each word so it is heard
as whispered, and yet loud.
The princesses they squeal and clap
and sigh upon his heart.
And yet he is as stone, alone,
and left upon his part.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.