He lost himself,
He was overcome
With astonishment.
He found himself understanding
the wearisomeness of this life.
The place of the assembly
In which he stood,
Was roughly a triangle
But irregular and sketchy,
Like everything
They made.
We have never had an assembly
This late,
But we need to put thing straight.
There must be no mistake
about this assembly,
no chasing imaginary.
The trouble is,
If your chief
You had to think
You had to be wise.
We need an assembly
Not for fun
Not for laughing,
And not for making jokes,
Or cleverness.
He took the conch,
The yellow and pink
To near-white and transperancy,
He faced the place of assembly
And put the conch on his lips.
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