The Restless Poet

His royalty sits upon his throne
bemoaning all those ‘neath.
Shackles to those who dare
not comply nor cede.

Bend thy knee to his majesty,
swear fealty to the crown.
Heed thou the master’s voice,
lest to the dungeon roam.

Shadows of fear shroud the land,
a servitude’s decree,
submissions bitter, tasteless hand,
no hope of liberty. 

The wise and just,
Resplendent Queen,
reflects love,
pure and sweet.

Her eyes as sapphires,
shining blue, blazing all afire,
unyielding to the hammer blows,
of his royal ire.

With visions of the eighth,
and ghosts from that bloody page,
she finds the strength to stand,
navigate the treacherous waters,
and confront his imperial rage.