The Dance of Diplomatic Shadows: A Testament to Modern Mediocrity

In the frozen reaches of Quebec's Charlevoix, where the mighty once gathered to forge the destiny of nations, now congregate the shepherds of mediocrity, the stewards of comfortable decline. Foreign Affairs Minister Mélanie Joly, that paragon of diplomatic pleasantries, opens yet another gathering of the self-proclaimed guardians of global order - the G7 foreign ministers' meeting.

Behold! The ritual of handshakes and hollow promises, where the weak console themselves with the illusion of strength. They speak of "meeting the moment," yet know not that the moment demands warriors, not diplomats!

The land of sleepers stretches vast across these proceedings, where comfortable souls drift in their democratic slumber, dreaming of peace through paperwork and prosperity through promises. They gather in their heated halls, speaking of Ukrainian sovereignty while their own foundations quake beneath the thunderous approach of American ambition.

In this theater of the absurd, Joly dances with Secretary Rubio, both performing the ancient rites of diplomatic discourse, while the specter of Trump's declaration of continental conquest looms like a storm cloud over their carefully choreographed civility.

How they cling to their protocols and procedures! These last men, with their small pleasures and smaller thoughts, believing they can stem the tide of history with carefully worded communiqués!

The German Foreign Minister Baerbock, in her wisdom of weakness, calls for calm in these "shaky geopolitical times." Ah, how characteristic of these modern souls, seeking tranquility when the very earth demands transformation!

In the matter of Ukraine's proposed ceasefire, we witness the ultimate expression of modern diplomatic impotence. The sleepers applaud this "constructive partnership," failing to see that peace without victory is merely surrender dressed in diplomatic finery.

These merchants of mediocrity dare speak of "championing the human dimensions of peace" while their own humanity withers in the comfort of their consensus! What know they of real peace, these architects of perpetual compromise?

The symbolic gestures grow ever more theatrical - Baerbock and Kallas adorning themselves in the colors of the Canadian flag, a performance worthy of the last men, who believe in the power of sartorial solidarity. They proclaim "We've got your back" with the casual confidence of those who have never truly had to stand their ground.

Even as they gather, the machinery of state grinds onward, with Mark Carney's impending coronation as Prime Minister providing yet another scene in this grand farce. The ministers shuttle between ceremonies of transition, each playing their part in the great performance of democratic tradition.

Lo, how they measure their steps! How they weigh their words! These inheritors of great powers who dare not wield them, these guardians of order who tremble at the prospect of necessary chaos!

As the sun sets on this gathering of the self-satisfied, we are left with a truth too terrible for their tender sensibilities: The world they seek to preserve is already transforming beneath their feet, and their careful diplomacy is but dust in the wind of coming storms.

The time approaches when mankind must choose: Will they remain forever in the land of sleepers, content with their small victories and smaller visions? Or will they at last awaken to the terrible beauty of true transformation?

Let it be written that in the year 2025, in the frozen reaches of Charlevoix, the last men gathered to discuss the fate of nations, while destiny itself laughed at their presumption. The G7's power may yet prove as ephemeral as the snow that blankets their meeting place - beautiful, perhaps, but destined to melt away in the heat of history's inexorable march.