no matter what they say, I am still the king
Life is a fickle beast – a thing to be mourned and feared. (but frolicked with; oh always frolicked with). Life, like most things (like He), gives and takes. It will take your comfort, your down soft memories and innocence of pearls (take it all, skin it alive, pray for the best). But it will give; give you your dusk flecked body, your sun tinged skin, your melding of stone and ire. You will grow, life will flow (giveandtakeandtake) – and you will learn.
There is much to be hung on expectations – a hat rack settled so surely in the corner, always there (rarely used). What will you be? What will you do? What will you etch so permanently in those stubborn rock walls? You can stray as far as you might, fighting the tide of the kingdom, but there is always that tether (that title- heiress, heiress, heiress). Will it be inside you – a warrior waiting to spring forth from your mother’s rib – or will it fester like a wound (failure feels hot on your skin)?
“You cannot escape the mind, my little rose-thing.” He comes forth (as foreboding as your future), His dark skin clashing so violently with yours (giveandtake). Your venture (escape?) has led to you to your future (your fall?).
“Such a far way to come to still have them embittered inside you.” He could take too, you know. He could take each and every one so delicately from your mind – the give and take, the ebb and flow.
Life- it takes, oh yes it takes so damn much. But life also gives you Him.
(now, the storm is coming in)