Kneeling,
A man crosses his arms
Before the statue

Silently,
He declares his service
Toward the Gods

Regally,
He performs the rituals
That have become so familiar

From his heart,
A quiet thanks arises
For their blessings
And holy support.

For all in those years
Under his rule,
Never once
Did they force suffering

Never once
Did they bring famine

Gratefully,
He stands at the altar,
Ready to make his offerings

For even
The Son of a God,
Needed support and guidance
From others

For though the throne
, Is occupied by a king,
He seeks
To be a capable one

A man
That can wash away
His people’s worries
And reduce their struggles

For though
He was the king,
No prosperous nation
Can be led alone.

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This poem was inspired by a writing prompt from the “Storyteller’s Vault” Publication

Cross
arise | service