Was not enough go get enough
the crystal throne sat gazing empty
the crowd had melted decisions were
abandoned like dead petals
the falling snow filled the roofs with reason
the grandmother who sat in the yard
pulling up plants for us to eat in the spring
the wheels and the larks that dart from this
eye to that within the confines of reality
the air remains thin and the council
sits and judges the citizenry
A pen draws a line
the past is forgotten by decree.
so the people dance
and their laughter
falls down from the tree
it is not hard to believe
but now you find a cloak over
both arms and being carried
as if by a wave the crown of
nails and the sound of
the crystal throne encasing
your presence
giving you Godhood
you know this does not happen so it must be a dream
characters in stories are not supposed to do that
it breaks the contract of consequences
that we made with the reader
the turner of the pages
keeps the past unraveling
well spent tough until the very end
the last gasp on the battle field
the last shred of life expiring breath
these are what heroics are made of
the crystal throne ensures deadly
grown up on battle fields outside
of your home will gasp their last
breath knowing you are the Lord
and Master of the land