Parallels
A wild-eyed Rasputin-like figure,
Hair and beard in stringy strands
Clad in robes that shouted charlatan.
He conjured more than smoke and potions.
He stole the minds of troubled souls
And those who sought miracles
In troubled times.
History may be circling back on itself.
The orange ogre is Tsar Nicholas
His companion, his Tsarina
And the children are doomed by blood
To the roles that history has set for them.
While a wealthy clown plays Rasputin
Capering madly on the stage.
He holds the key to unlock the fever-dream
That rages inside the Tsar’s mind.
No hair or beard in stringy strands
Nor tattered, dirty robes
But a host of pretty toys and a treasure chest of gold
And a coterie of celebrants
Gathered at the feasting table at
The Mask of the Red Death
Gleefully unaware of their fate.
I mean no harm
And make no prophecies,
But the scenarios are eerily alike.
Here Rasputin has enchanted the Tsar
While the Tsarina looks on
With cold indifference.
She thinks she can escape.
.
Do you not see the parallels?
No one escapes.