A granite fort, White rock, marble, History-touched and modern home,
A lonely courtyard, Perhaps ancient battleground, Perhaps wedding gala, Or King's coronation, Now empty, barren, History but a whisper from walls.
Lonely but one, A soul - equally lonely. Modern soul, timeless thoughts, Brought by family, Stayed by peace.
For it truly is peace, Lonely but one, No disturbance. No agenda.
I do concede, The peace is cold, Perhaps once lively and warm, Now lonely and empty.
This lonely soul, That keeps courtyard company, Seeking company of his own, Simply sits, vigil, Marble masterpieces, In medieval skyline
His mind, equally feudal, Turf wars, betrayals & subplots, Macbeths and Iagos alike, To be closest to the King, To hold the most land.
A bombarded King, Stuck in ruling to notice, Cannot cope.
The King cannot see, though He himself is not blind, His eyes have been drawn shut
Ruling and leading, The government city-State. The earlship's requests, God's equally.
There is no order of being, This feudal landscape is chaos, Fundamental problems topple castles. It feels only so long till the Royal Palace meets the same.
This King holds few solace. His scribes and his messengers, They are freedom, escape, aid.
Freedom, escape & aid, Ill-afforded in the locale,
Heaven expects great of the King, The Peasants rely on his Majesty, There is no Freedom, escape, nor aid for this King
His Royal Palace is crumbling, And yet, He hardly knows his Lords. Lords of States not of the Nobility.
The ones that truly matter
The lonely soul, Still sitting on that courtyard, Looks over the threshold balcony:
Only sees a clouded view, Cold, unforgiving, opaque. All the structures from earlier, Now hide in the shadows
As the man, Nay the Boy, Ponders the Kingship of his mind.