Jul 10


Lion: ………….Emperor

Hawk:  ……….General

Wolf: …………..Hunter

Rabbit: ………..Pacifist

Serpent: ………Priest

Raven: …………Crier

Sheep: …………Masses

Act I

A terrace overlooking the promontory where war’s theater is forming.

Enters Lion


LION.  ‘Tis indeed the Witching hour.

HAWK.  Aye, your majesty.

LION.   War is but Foreign Policy,

This I have made a decree,

While some call it heresy –

RABBIT.  There are always alternatives.

Must we act as warmongers,

Always doom’s harbingers?

HAWK.  Such doom and gloom you speak.

Your hypocrisy renders you weak

While verily of blood you reek!

Art thou not “hawk” to the meek

Whose flesh you daily seek?

Your ill-formed council silent keep!

LION.  Do make haste, kind Rabbit,

Tell Raven to sound the trumpet,

And lay the crimson carpet,

Drenched for my Knights’ banquet

Served with Serpent’s blessed feast.

RABBIT.  Your Majesty.

Exits Rabbit


HAWK.   How shall we harness the carnage?

The sheep are still in bondage!

LION.  How your heart trembles,

Your resolute resolve crumbles.

Compose yourself at once

Before the war council assembles.

Have you forgotten of my dear friend

Hunting free beyond the river’s end?

Enters Wolf


LION.  Sir, to my humble court welcome.

The awaited moment hast come

To serve your beloved kingdom.

Return from your solitary quest,

And herd the sheep at my behest,

To my abattoir’s unquenchable lust.

The Raven shall cry your name thrice.

And for your noble act of sacrifice,

You shall name your deserved price.

WOLF.  Sire, you impress me with your graciousness,

But I devour streams of consciousness,

Which I hunt at the fringes of thy awareness.

To slaughter you lead your sheep, I witness;

Falsely borne on my noble name, such cowardice;

Yet to form you with my vision, indeed priceless!

LION.  My dear friend you speak in riddles,

Your logic my regal burden befuddles,

Yet your service is worthy of my highest medals.

I now thank thee, and take my leave,

Lest kind Rabbit in our accord meddles.

Exeunt Lion and Hawk


WOLF.  Hark, I stand alone upon this promontory,

Canst thou not hear the drums of history?

A lavish feast is the heart of this story.

-Iliad Alexander Terra