By Shreeya Kumar
You're confused, scared, and yet you're sacred,
Touched by gods, the celestial kingdom beckons you.
Your name runs in all that eyes can see;
You're a good king, but your fear gets the best of you.
You hold on to your throne, afraid of being overthrown.
How many times must you be told that you're unconquerable?
I would anchor you, but I mustn't;
My mother tells me to stay away from kings,
Kings with courtesans and dancers in their beds,
Shower them with your pearls and gold,
Give away land in their names, and father their children.
Watch as your bastards fight for the throne that never belonged to them.
In moments of silence and honor,
When your soul shines through in a distant world,
Away from all the noise, you promise me grandeur and luxuries.
I don't want any of it – your names, your titles, or your wealth.
Give me your silence, honor, strength, love, and valor;
Maybe then you'll win my loyalty back.
But that's a world out of our reach;
You're not destined to be a traveling medic.
Meet me behind the banyan grove before I depart
To my moral duties, and you to your ancestral ones.
Bring no honor, being no guards; come as you truly are,
But that is too much to ask from the crown prince.
The last sunset among the whispering streams
And the lowly grass that you will have your troops trample,
Pick me my favorite flowers from the gardens you planted.
Come when the sun must kiss the horizon,
Amongst the wild and free flowers, before you must be the kingdom's savior.
Remain my sweet and kind prince, just for the last rays
Of the waning summer's sun.