The Voices

He entered the castle full of people
Men dressed in suits with Cigars dancing between the ends of the teeth
With occasional glancing at the watches painted in Gold and Silver
Will ones watch run any faster than the others?
Conversations embellished in money and power
With eyes, long trained to measure ones worth, meeting opponents in each corner
Their shoes, shiny and screaming the stories of pride overhauling those from slaves
The women, no less than the Angels themselves
Wearing grace and beauty from the head to the toes
Waving hands as if orchestrating the whole scene he sees
Silent master minds, he would call them.
It would be hard to understand what thoughts were forming in their mind's wombs
The music, pleasant, un-cared for and eternal lost in the noises
Thats when he met Voices. Dressed well, elegant looking, wearing masks
Guiding everyone in the hall with just simple phrases

As this continued, he saw something or say someone standing around each person
People that looked like The Voices
Miniature versions of the The Voice he called them
Nodding their heads, obliging to what was being told by The Voices
As if taking orders, creeping back into their owner's heads...

I wonder what I was writing about. Cant recollect no more.