"The Footsteps," A Poetry Post

The anointed king,
his footsteps are
ordered
by the rule of the
Divine blessing.

He may
confidently
put his foot down into
any situation and
expect
obeisance.

He does not require
iron fist rule but
he has an iron fist and
he can rule
with or without it.

People follow
out of love,
out of respect,
out of patriotism.

His words can be trusted,
his acts can be judged and
he will be found
true and honest.

He may call down realities,
create somethings from nothings
by decree and
reset whole municipalities
with his words.

Where then is the king?
And where are his footsteps?

Behold,
he has girded himself like a peasant.
He is trodden on.
He is confined by
others' realities.
He is constrained by
others' limits...

Where is the king?
He is engulfed
in an illusion.

The world is waiting,
and he is on the corner,
playing in the sandbox,
eating strangers' candy,
like a poorly parented toddler.

Like a poorly parented toddler,
pretending
that it's better to be that
than to rule.

-T. D. James-Moss