A toast to the golden gauntlet
Of ears and eyes
Once connected
Now broken
Yet unaware
Of the catastrophe
Soon to arise
From the depths still
Unknown
Yet where is It?
The Golden gauntlet?
I tell you for it lies
In the hands
Of a sour faced King
Tragedy had struck
His seemingly perfect
Kingdom
His son once killed in battle
His Queen, had turned to stone
The darkest shade of red
Had met his very soul
In the misfortune
Plagued by his ancestors
From the grave
Atop the hill
All that remains
Of the Kingdom
All that exists of the king
A half empty bottle of wine
A broken window
A golden gauntlet
A blue tinted shard of glass
Painted slightly in red
Sun had soon shone through the valley
The Kingdom cried in rejoice
A king needn't govern their people
A Queen needn't hold all the jewels
A Prince needn't heir to the crown
A thief had soon stolen
The gauntlet
And had cleaned up the glass
But the castle of stone
Still stands all alone
Blue stained glass was the villain
Not the gauntlet
Not the king
Merely were they thoughts
Merely were they a plan
And the glass
The boldest of actions
