Kings



From a frame

from a window

I look out and I see

the golden king with shining arms

his hands stretched out to me

Upon a hill crest there he stands

and his light falls all around

Verily, this day will I

fly out to him

who is loves life come

and given to me


Looking again through the frame

through the wood surrounding me -

behold, another lonely king

His back is turned, his dark cloak drawn

and his face I cannot see

as he sits in the cold cold wind

and his head is bowed beneath the tree

And about the world’s calumny

his head shakes in pitiful ways

and his eyes seek oblivion

in the palms of his hands


Flying out

as before in the twilight

I come close by and I see

the gold skin flaking from his face

and a lamp that goes unlit

and blackened feet

where you have walked

for miles

and miles

to me


Dear sad king

upon the rainy plain

these many days and nights have I

kept silent vigil by your side