The crownless again shall be king.

 
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in the old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are

This place is dead.

It was not always so.

Once, this barren court resounded with laughter. Laughter and dismay, in equal measure; for this was no more than a reflection of the world - its joys and its follies, both. If there are two sides to everything (and that is a conservative estimate) Out There, then there shall be no less In Here. Everything has its place, 'tis true; sadly, that nobody can seem to agree on where that might be, at any given time. Therein lies the folly, therein lies the attraction; and there, in a nutshell, is the reason why the Court of Dreams exists.

Here was reality stirred with fantasy in measures so unequal that hearts would be gladdened by the imbalance. Cries of mock-tragedy filled the air as barbs of wit were flung hither and yon in refined abandon. Oh, the sport was bloodless, 'tis true; but do not for an instant believe that it was always harmless. Moderation in all things except temptation, and the devil take the hindmost! Those were the days.

One day, something changed. Something died in the world. And, as we all know, when a man is not the master of himself, he cannot hope to be the master of anything else. And so, the King abdicated, the jesters slunk away and the court lay empty.

As is the way with most things, its value was only truly recognized once it had gone. The Court made no claims to be lifechanging or momentous, but it was everything to its King. What was it to everyone else? Does it matter? Let us not say that it was important in any way. Say, rather, it was the mirror - held in a decidedly sardonic hand - by which one might discern the world and where one would like to be in it; and how far away that is from where you were. The world may not need this place, but he surely does. And something makes me believe he knows that, now.

But enough about the past, it might as well be another country. Now to the present - the world has changed, and the mirror must - heh - reflect that. The hand guiding the mirror has changed more than anything, but what's life without the odd gamble? Now, the throne is occupied again. Not the most kingly figure, it must be said; one leg draped over the arm of his throne, tongue parked firmly in cheek as he says, ‘Right. Now, where was I?’

Long live the King.