The Mute Monarch

When read alongside “Sailors”, this piece gives a bit of insight into the mind of the stargazer. Enjoy and leave your thoughts in the comments below!


The truth is fickle
Or so it seems
For it’s hardly heard
In passioned screams.

The doom of all
The impending collapse
The warning signs come
Our attention span, lapse.

But is truth a harlot
Who follows only the wealth
And foregoes the cries
Of our ailing world’s health?

Those with power may speak
Lies, deception, deceits
Drowning out coherence
From the cries of the weak.

But it takes them no effort
To drown out the sound
For the “truth” is abundant
Half-truths all around.

For merely a whisper
From the top of a hill
Can be magnified in manner
No room without fill.

But perhaps the righteous
Most worthy of ear
Is the person to whom
You are speaking with here.

A monarch who’s voiceless
Whose truth does not lie
But who, without voice,
Is still doomed to die.

And truth? What of it?
What matters is just
The speaker at pulpit
Who defiles naïve trust.



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