Running with Kings

I am running with the king
His horses and chariot cloud my sights
They crush the earth like the fists of giant gorillas
thumping monstrously in display of anger
In chorus,
the earth respond with quakes, rumbling and thunder
it call the heavens for lightning,
a map of the troubles that crush it

here I am, man,
caught between the agony of the earth
and the pursuant of the king
He is clothed in the red and gold fruits of nature
In the glimmer of its treasure
I am blinded by the dust and trumpets
Blaring sounds that call to the warriors
The beacon for testosterone
I am trapped in their midst

Trapped
For I do not desire this
I seek to feast with earth
to sit under the tree in orchestra spring
Where the waters dance in summer
and the yawn of the sun in autumn
Even the melody under the canopy of redwood
And the fragrance of fresh mowed lawn
Sprinkled with the sweet nectar of sunset
and to bring to it,
as a mother to her needful child
or to her famished husband
respite

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