..THE KING'S COVENANT SHALL REMAIN UNBROKEN. VICTORY IS ASSURED BY HIS HAND...
he throws down his (gilded) crown
his kingdom crumbling down
from its very foundations
(of pillars of salt and pillars of sand)
and all across the nations
a terrible sigh is heard
confirmation
that he is king.
the price paid is not worth the ascendance to the throne
(he's heard that once blood is spilled by your hands
it never washes away, no matter how much your scour the tainted impurity upon your soul
all the way to the bone)
"Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"
// father, why did you have to leave me behind in a world of twisted politics and hidden machinations, knives hidden behind backs? I didn't want this---//
(who would ever want to be
K I N G ?)
upon his crimson throne he is the guardian of his kingdom
gazing over his (he hates the word) pawns in machinations that encompass all of the lands in its grasp---
and despises being a manipulative player in this twisted game
(so many transgressions to his great name)
but as he shifts yet another piece he can't help a smile
at the enemy's defeat
triumphant.
// "Checkmate." //
A slight, coy smile in victory (but nothing too condescending, beyond a polite facade, and a simple muted scowl is sent in response. It simply wouldn't do for a ruler to lose their composure, after all, they stood as representations of their nation, no?
the gauntlet is thrown down with a metallic clatter and his smirk widens on the verge of becoming an impossibly wide leer.
knights to defend
(his sword and shield)
the cavalry in shining armor and fierce warhorses
( galloping to battle, hooves striking the ground, trumpets their fanfare calling to war, calling for grand deeds of heroism and the battle cries, shouts---'en garde!' )
on a field of checkered black and white, alternation between morality and immorality, right and wrong
each move a tactical decision weighted with consequences
each attempting to breach past the other's defenses
threatening to rend
each adversary
apart
(was it all doomed from the very start?)
..
watchtowers
ancient fortresses
observers from above
/his rooks
"send them my love!" he lets out a teasing laugh and they simply level
him a deadpan on par with bedrock.
(they don't ask who in particular he's referring to. likely because they don't want to know.)
seeking out from his strategic positions, opposition against his reign
protection like the shelter of the castle walls
..
praying for victory
hands clasped in reverence
(it is assured by his hand.)
but he smiles because they have faith and hope and belief that the tides will turn in his favor
/his bishops
..
and they will. he promises---
a covenant that will remain unbroken.
(he clenches his fist)
"This is war."
blood spills in a display of vivid claret with the metallic tang and clang of unsheathed weaponry, dulled halberds and cruor
but a captain always goes down with his ship, and
if he's going down, he's going out with a flash and a bang!
(of cannons firing and the world being cleaved in two with gunpowder-smoke and a match to light the combustion, creating a reaction in which---)
he's not going out without a fight,
no,
if he's going down
he's taking them with him to the grave within solemn coffins below hallowed groun
( tear-soaked flowers upon their solemn grey tombs )
he is their King, Commander of all military forces
and he's never been more proud.
(of his people. his.)
"Charge."
and he hopes with all his heart that it's not the last command he makes.
YOU ARE READING
a litany of ruminations
Poesía{poetry collection} s c a t t e r e d dreams and drifting thoughts, oh, not everything is what it seems... (not necessarily from my own thoughts)
