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Jesters ascension

In twilight's kingdom, where the shadows play, And sovereigns rule with ironclad decree, A jester, cloaked in garb of night and day, Spun tales of love that whispered, "Come, be free." His heart, a bloom amidst the frost of time, Beat with the rhythm of a tender verse, For in his jest, there lay a love sublime, A sonnet's soul, the universe's hearse. The jester's eyes, twin orbs of starlit dreams, Gazed upon a maiden fair and true, Her grace, a light that through the darkness beams, A love that in the silent nighttimes grew. Beneath the moon's soft, ever-watchful eye, Their hands entwined, two fates did intertwine, The jester's jest, now but a lover's sigh, As hearts in silent ardor did align. The gods above, in their celestial sphere, Looked down upon this jest turned serenade, And in their wisdom, whispered in the ear, Of him whose love the heavens had swayed. From fool to god, his ascent was thus sealed, With love's sweet kiss, his divine right revealed, In jest and joy, his heart no longer veiled, A god of love, in Victorian fields. So let this tale of jest and passion told, In whispered tones, where lovers' dreams unfold, Remind us all, that even hearts of old, Can find new life, in stories bold and gold.

Jesters ascension

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