At the gates...

He sat on his throne-like seat -
toes of one leg meeting the thigh of another
and the thigh of the other resting on the cushion of its own falling calves -
listening to every one of them...

magicians in line, showing him tricks of appearance,
alongside
academicians, theorizing on every happening He created;
those in service, who said what they felt like, different things at different times,
businessmen, entrepreneurs, priests, writers, singers,
astronauts, astrologers and all such
vying for His hand,
struggling to impress,
with style, sound, signs and some kinda splendour.
He spoke suddenly after witnessing all offerings,
one palm signalling 'Stop',

................'Don't you know by now, having lived your lives, in such elation,
.................I know exactly what you can do,
.................I need no big efforts or any of this elaboration,
.................Its rather simple, this business of winning and woo,

.................run through the past, its known, its linked,
.................I'm a humourist', said he,
.................paused, sat back and winked -
.................'Just humour me!'