The King and I

The King and I sit upon our throne, observing each day pass.
We watch the grains of sand whirl by our prison made of glass.
These walls we built that won’t come down are clear, but stand opaque;
For though we see the moments ripe, no actions can we take.

Resigned are we, unto our fate, with Hope a pleasant dream.
Nothing worthy finds the eye, no greatness do we deem.
But the dust accosts my soul and attachments hence are made
Which make the ending all the worse when they must wane and fade.

A trinket here, a diamond there, all worn away by time.
Still we remain here, passively, witnesses to the crime.
I thought, perhaps, I should reach out and save them from their fate,
But my companion convinces me that they won’t satiate.

I miss the sparkle of each stone I’ll never see again.
Though new jewels do pass my way, it isn’t as it’d been.
So I repine for gems long past, while more fly into view;
Before I mourn each fragment gone, the cycle starts anew.

But each new rock is just a curse: a burden, not a gain!
For though I try to reach and grasp, I can’t transcend the pane!
I soon forget each glimmer that once kept me insane,
So now I’m back to apathy, no sunshine for our reign.

Thus we watch, we wretched two, and fades our rejected bliss;
Still we cannot help but wonder what it is we always miss.