clothes for a king

 The reluctant prince must learn to use the scepter. 

The flourish of magnificence is the beginning of the end. 

Power flows and multiplies uncontrollably

The applause, the praise, the cheer the money. 

Yet the deafening presence must rule it all. 

Silence the crowd in its aura. 

There can not be a moment wasted on the unserious masses.

For he is finally beginning to believe.

His power is his shakti, his beloved. 

Forever ready to be by his side. 

In the dance of intensity, the world is delivered.

From its abject meaninglessness. 

To serve always, 

To empty himself completely,

To ravage her as she gifts him love and strength again and again.

The humility that comes from intuiting the presence that shakes the confines of his humanity.

They are the only clothes an emperor should wear.

Namaste.

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