Sovereign

If you’re not sitting on your throne

Who is?


Phantom rulers weaving tight

the fabric of your life

to keep you bent low for crumbs


contorting your Self to twisted shadow

casting what others want over your life

not truly serving anyone


voices which are not yours

drowning out the song of your soul

in the crowded cacophony

of the market place world


What would your life be

if the invisible chains were seen


your crown in the dust

retrieved

if you cut yourself free


your face

toward the sun

If your every gesture

sprung from a

spring of pure being-ness


Flooding our desiccated kingdom

Into an oasis of renewal


What if you ordained yourself

Sovereign of yourself?

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