The crossroad, not spun golden sun,
unwelcome choice when others bathe,
reflected in the glitz and shine,
opaque this ruby, jewel of crown.
That glisten, spikes, where droplets fall,
hung iridescent rolling pearls,
orb sign tells claim, as kingdom ruled,
but gate to splendour, throne or tree?
This game of thrones, of monarchy,
the question posed, where glory lies,
under the heavy weight of state –
as nation, wealth – or sacrifice?
We wait to find willed testament,
inheritance of judgments made;
what revelations will we face,
reign auric son, resplendent, death?
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales from ministry in the Methodist Church, has had over 150 pieces published by online poetry sites, including Sparks of Calliope, printed journals and anthologies. https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com/