krghost510
"The Crown's True Weight"
A king is not a god in gold,
Nor forged in steel, nor born so bold,
He does not rule through wrath or might,
But serves beneath the morning light.
His throne is not for prideful gaze,
Nor does he bask in songs of praise.
His crown is forged of duty's thread,
A burden worn with care, not dread.
For power is a fleeting flame,
But honor-ah, that earns a name.
To raise a sword not for his gain,
But shield the weak from fear and pain.
He walks not high while others fall,
He hears the cry, he heeds the call.
He does not order, blind and cold,
He listens, learns, and humbly holds.
To guard the fields, to mend the land,
To lift the weary with his hand-
That is the mark, the royal art,
A kingdom carried in the heart.
So judge not kings by wealth or blade,
But by the peace their hands have made.
For greatness lies not in command,
But in respect-and where you stand.