The empty chair sets on stage
frightening me with its rage.
It asks words of a wise mage, which I'm not;
this blot I can't assuage.
If I dared, they said that night,
I'd soon be over this fright.
But I have seen the spotlight shining cold,
and told tales of its might.
Far be it from me to know
the intimate secrets low
which help them vanquish their foe of rank fear
to jeer at my shadow.