The sun king,
An avatar of his soul’s
True bidding.
Voices in his head,
The call of his country’s people,
Shackled by his pile of
Golden sweeps.
The hungry on their return
To hell,
His rise a mere steal.
A wife held captive,
Gardens in restless
Abandon,
Art only kept in mirrors.
His descension,
The final act of a ballerino,
Waddling to his imperfect
Throne draped in ill-fated
Questioning.
Writing, the Universe and whatever occurs to me
Read on, it's good for the brain.
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Living on the Edge of the Wild
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Because Beauty is Not Just a Word; It's a Lifestyle
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A Diamond to Remember 