The director wears charcoal black
His mouth is toothless pit of torment
His voice flares from its depths

The stage is his domain
His soles scorch the boards, step by

His glare incinerates the singers
Every wrong note is a spark
set to ignite his fury
His eyes stamp a brand on each mind
"Fear Me!"
And even the opera ghost stands to attention.

The director has the power
to make the toughest actor crumple
and float away
like feeble
ashes in the breeze.