{ ... }

 

۞

“Viva la Sociocracie!”  

“¡No Pasaran!”  

A king conspirator wouldn't let a single identity in.  All the brothers-and-sisters were wearing the same garments.  They relièd on their mystery.  The mystery of their appearance.  Its disappearance.  They had coverèd their faces.  

When The President goes abroad for foreign policy no one, not even the best in the Mossad, can read him.  His enigmatic presence relièd on the absence and forgetting of his identity when in the Freemasonry.  In fact, all who were robèd could have been The President.  There was no discrimination.  

There was absolute loyalty.  As if religion demandèd absolute piety no matter which deity was invokèd successfully.  They had successfully invokèd a deity.  

“The individual is The Party,” said The President.  

{enrobèd}  

۝