The King’s Matter

A breath. A sip.

Both coincide.

The smell of thirst being quenched so sweetly, you realise.

You thought you needed it to energise.

People are laughing around you.

Strings are pulled, a song is made but no sense of it ever has.

You are numb inside and weak.

A soldier of drunken misgivings, so many tales have you.

You appear peaceful, my King, but you are troubled somewhere.

What happened to your world that was at large despair?

Are you drought of words to bare

for

words aren’t a thing close to feelings unheard?

I aren’t another employee for the devil’s sake

So let me in your spirit of mind partake

Give me a hand and let me sow in it a garden of trust,

A garden you reap dry if you must.

I have only a simple life to sacrifice

For wonders unknown for mankind to realise.

You haven’t made a notion of things nor do you simply assume

I have in my finger hurt a curve too hard to point it at you.

I bear all intentions to be a delicate delight

But have you endured the cries post a poor man’s fight?

Hard are you, on yourself and all others

But what good is a King if in his worries he lets his people suffer?

Qualms will perish as will the days

But your light in the Kingdom forever stays.

Hold the torch and dim your imagination.

Reality is bright enough, no need for illumination.

Hover your senses over my well drafted thought

And sense it as it should be or how you feel you ought.