There were three spheres.

Three spheres, three theatres, three different minds.
Laughter reigned in all three.  So did order
and helpfulness.

In one lived two disparate sides of
one intelligent person.  Both articulate
and crude each half housed knowledge
and humor.

In another, a swashbuckler and his mate
laughed and loved and offered their aid
to those in need.

In the third, in a theatre so new that
the seats were still wrapped in plastic, 
three men and their mentor entered the realm
of the critic for the first time.

The acolyte looked down at the darkened theatres
with despair.  If anyone could know the source
of the disquietness in the air, the inhabitants
of the spheres would know.

But they were empty.

The acolyte moved on.


The Acolyte