In the gilded heart of Dreamspace’s Court,
Where coin and clamor ruled each sport,
There gathered the Council of Gold — shining, radiant, wise,
With velvet cloaks and jeweled eyes.
Each year, the court awaited the Joust Most Grand,
A spectacle watched across every land.
Knights and nobles, merchants and bards,
Gathered to wager — some openly, some with cards.
But this year, a curious stir did arise —
A minstrel from far-off sun-kissed isles,
Known for words both honeyed and sly,
Was chosen to lead the revelry nigh.
A certain usurper, the Man Once Crowned,
Seethed at the Council, his envy unbound.
He bellowed and blustered, he threatened decree:
“No minstrels of mirth from islands for me!”
But the Council of Gold, both bold and shrewd,
Smiled quietly, unmoved, their wisdom renewed.
“For the Joust is not thine, oh man of the past —
Let those who build joy hold their lanterns steadfast.”
Whispers of shadow passed through the night:
“Call forth the guard, stir up a fright!
Ban all the jesters! Cancel the show!”
But coin speaks louder than threats, as we know.
For every gold piece cast in delight,
Builds a future the shadows cannot blight.
The people, united, tuned in with intent —
Not for the usurper, but for joyous dissent.
So when the day came for banners unfurled,
The minstrel took stage, her songs sang to the world.
The Man Once Crowned, his rage left unseen,
Could not halt the music, nor silence the dream.
Let this be a lesson, in Dreamspace or land —
Gold and joy in the hands of the band,
Speak truer than anger, than bribes or decree:
A Joust led by many, not one — so let it be.
Moral:
In Dreamspace, the true council is not those who clamor for crowns,
but those who shine light and share joy around.
Let coins and care be cast for the good—
The Joust belongs to the people, as it always should.
