Your Kingdom

Warm air and brisk lives

Slipping away like the hand of a child

Cold touch and sharp knives

You never knew what lead to this dolor. 

 Cruel and cold, 

Yet warm and mellow when you dive in

 The December to my Magi 

And Messiah to your Mary. 

The child who couldn't tell the difference between the lotus and water lily. 

Feeble and secure

the noble who crossed the crown And snatched your keys

In bed with thy Queen 

And the death to your Glory.