The Crown
May I unfurl and come to be,
The shape of great renown,
A banner higher and bright as fire,
Paraded the town.
To live the lore,
Of those before,
And bear the name my father bore,
I’d do anything,
Just to restore,
The crown atop my head.
May all the sorrows I have sown,
Lay rotten in the ground,
The pains I’ve built left dead to wilt,
Eclipsed and shadow bound.
To turn from war,
That tired roar,
That burned for slights and settled scores,
I’d do anything,
Just to restore,
The crown atop my head.
May all these borrowed words I wear,
Hang true upon my bones,
To coax a sight of mercy’s light
And guide the wayward home.
To steer true north,
Correct the course,
Past broken skies, for calmer shores,
I’d do anything
Just to restore,
The crown atop my head.
May the undertaker rest his watch,
Pronounce me not yet dead,
And each heart beat will hit the streets,
To prove I’m more than lead.
To hit the floor,
And claim the fore,
Humbled, wiser than before,
I’d do anything,
Just to restore,
The crown atop my head.
