The King's Toast

 

I am a shadow of someone

my own age,

wandering around, bartering,

and sagging at the waist



I am a shadow

of someone who smirks crookedly,

picks up where he left off,

and dies on the spot;

a jester

with a myocardial infarction & cancer



Yes, I am a shadow of someone

uncannily alike,

dead tired,

ashes to ashes



I am a shadow

beneath drifting skies

and widening horizons;



the shadow of a chance

in someone perpetually unreal,

waking from incomprehensible dreams

in the early morns

watching dawn prepare itself for noon

and the end of life;



a shadow among conscripted soldiers

and tenant farmers;

among recruits with twisted mustaches

on yellowed photographs;

a dissolved outline

in due course's ever extended shadow;

a glint over the crust of snow

in the harsh light of war

piercing every crack & crevice;



a stark shadow over the crowd;

a proclaimer of benedictions & the King's toast









Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2024-11-28 at 11:55

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arquious The PoetBay support member heart!
Oh to be king and yet... yet the toast itself may ail the reader as both a celebratory gesture as well as a poignant acknowledgment of impermanence, underscoring the themes of existence, decay, and the passage of time.
2024-12-01