Liberating light of the sun
work never is done;
each daylight instant won
till sit he does
upon a Western throne
(when darkness descends
upon the earth)
The throne rules
only in darkness;
when the light comes it is clear
there's merely a chair,
and a majestic golden crown, shed
reveals merely human hair,
for the royalest head
still blows out the same air:
words, thought, are said
in want of care,
and a king, undead,
cannot rule fair.
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