Mime Troupes and Morality Plays. (Dedicated to Lily Janiak.)

 

In the heart of the square, where cobblestones lie,
Mime troupes don vivid veils, under the blue sky.
Their faces are pale, the stories are old,
They unfold medieval tales, in silence so bold.

The mimes, they play, the vices and virtues,
In a world void of words, where only movement accrues.
As mortal as man, as fleeting as day,
They portray life's trial in a mute ballet.

Beguiling at first, their silent discourse,
Yet the crowd starts to thin, showing remorse.
For in the age of the loud, of the vivid and clear,
A mime's quiet narrative falls on a deaf ear.

The innocence of folly, the cost of pride,
In their subtle gestures, these truths abide.
But these tales of old, so deep and profound,
In the bustle of now, hardly resound.

Still, they persist, these brave mime troupes,
Playing out sin and salvation in silent loops.
A silent echo of time, a morality spree,
Unheard in the clamor of modernity.

Alas, in the era of sound and fury,
Their timeless tales are lost in the hurry.
Mimed morality plays - a forgotten feast,
Drowned out by the noise of the clamorous beast.