Power Of Kings & Queens

Ouch! My feet are under Yours!

Dance like there's no Tomorrow
Dance like there's no Tomorrow | Source

A Dance to Get to The End

Silently, pure and plenty cometh inspiration and only this, only this I bear allegiance to. But sweet is the moment nonetheless, and like sex, where the world disappears, yet all too quickly returns with hellish requests to repeat the bliss that has now fled into illusions stronghold.

The king made his entrance, so too in silence but inspired not, weary and battle worn I thought to myself, perhaps I could help? Nothing came to mind what to do, though I thought it should be thus and so. Many a time I have thought thus and so should be thus and so, only to discover I was a puppet once more of circumstance.

Uhm, I Forgot My Camera!

oh God. What Am I Doing Here?
oh God. What Am I Doing Here? | Source

The Tail Sir! Fold it Upon the Dance Floor!

Hello said I, perfectly reaching out to my perception, all innocence and beguile. Sir, why dost thou come into my slums when you could be elsewhere considering thy king likeness?

The king at first felt his peacock feathers unfurling against his will, but he had blazed a dark and twisted color on the fabric of my sensitivities, flooring me into the slime of remembrance how I was nothing in his darkest glow although I was indeed, a moth to the flame, that I knew. We both wore the traditional mask, held over the face as if attending a masquerade ball, but this would be no ordinary dance in the moonlight. Speaking through painted lips I hoped were still kissable in my old age, I continued my greeting mustering up something I hoped, and twittering my plumage, which consisted of sparse feathers.

I Do This, Then You Do That!
I Do This, Then You Do That! | Source

Contrary Concerns

The king protested he was not a king, for he felt not like one. Gathering myself together I at first sought an answer within what a king would feel like but again I did not think a king should feel any different than the one who sweeps the castle enamored of his work, and so I spoke "but sire, surely a kingdom is your house of consciousness, and in this kingdom thou has made, and I have made the same of mine, and all have made, we are kings and queens the same then and cometh from the one God and are thus blessed, should we have been granted the daybreak with a singing bird."

A man of few words, yet heartily with stewing pot on the stage of life, he, whom minced them not when possessed of them, the king uttered a few words of approval, whether from condescending to entertain my presence, or I had given revelatory advice, I could never suppose and I held my breath for at the least, I had now his attention for whatever it turned out to be worth.

I have Trouble Remembering

How blessed it is to forget
How blessed it is to forget

The Poor Devil

In a former life my words might have gotten my head lopped off, and a nice stay in the dungeon of his castle before that. As well it would not have bode well for me to lay in his bed, producing but female children. I sensed he could still yet lop off my head even in this modern time. The king was very sensitive to any negative or misplaced word. If your garments were not pure as the driven snow, he pointed this out with much gusto even though the choice was there to overlook the faults of mankind and be fair, impartial as it were. For none of us seemed quite finished here, save those who gilded the lily too fervently to call it art.

Though magnificent in his way, fair, impartial and generous was not in his soul construction. Therefore there was this need to hide, to wear masks, the two of us, each wandering so close only to be driven afar by fierce winds of divine providence it would seem.

In the end what we don't understand gets relegated to divine providence or of course, the wretched devil, a convenient scapegoat, when you know in your heart of hearts, the devil was hiding behind the robes of God, like a petulant child whining he swore he had nothing to do with whatever had happened, that "they" accused him of. God would only sigh and the winds of his voice would moan when, oh when are you coming home to me?

One God Split Into Many People

God would meet God face to face, so they said in dreaming, and these Gods would stand marveling at one another in the mirror and how fine featured we can be; surely pleasing in the eye of God? We live our lives based on wishes, never knowing it is love and love only that will fulfill and fill the emptiness within and declare to you who you are, though your garments be stained with blood and self loathing. We can grasp the hints we received, that in unison we could build a new world from the ashes of the world that we were destroying. The whole of humanity was in unison once to make a world, then they slept and let the world make them.

Time passed and as usual our ballroom dance would end as we were but dancing to get to the end of the dance, and not to savor this moment never to come again, this sweet memory turned sour and the king with wisdom was a simple man behind the mask who said it was life, and life only. I floated off, shocked but with a full larder of food for thought now which I lived on, a rich woman in terms of satisfaction and content. I grew my garden and tended the birds and animals, pretending I was a fairy in mother nature's kingdom come. From the garden came beauty hidden that I knew was there if I could but reveal it.

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