In the realm of laughter's guise,
Where hidden pain is often disguised,
There exists a soul bright as day,
A jester dancing sorrow away.

With jests and antics, he'd entrance,
A gift of healing, a comic's stance,
In every trace of mirrored smile,
His spirit thrived, carefree and alive.

Through tears and sighs, his heart discerned,
Wounded spirits in shadows yearned,
And so he spun tales, a vibrant thread,
To mend cracked souls, wounded and shred.

He took the stage, a merry rogue,
Cracking jokes, a lively vogue,
His antics lightened the air's despair,
Melting burdened hearts with tender care.