A lord rules, upon throne, upon gold, upon knowing.
Four rings sit, upon fingers, upon doing, upon lord.
A finger for power, grip, prying and doing, for warring.
A finger for authority, wanting, achieving, for pillaging.
A finger for duty, something to ignore and pass off.
And, at last, a finger for wit and speech, values he claims possession of.
On the one finger where a ring should lay, there is nothing.
It is barren.
For a ring on that finger is love, commitment, adoration, of a personal variety.
And there is no space for that in a blackened and shriveled heart.
(It's been a while, sorry about that if it matters to anyone. I've got no reason, I merely lost interest in thinking.)
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
Fiksi UmumVarious poems about all sorts of things, nature, romances, ill-fated and beautiful ones, pain, death, open-hearted caverns and tight ones. The long and short of it... The poems could be about literally anything. Some of the content may be a little...