It was an unreasonable love. It was an inarticulate love… the love of the innocents for their sovereign… That unattainable majesty that propelled the masses onto the street crying and shouting adorations. The sovereign was beyond reach, but a glimpse as the sovereign passed by was considered a morsel of paradise… dissent and skepticism dared not utter the truths of any terror throughout the reign and the kinship. For paradise was indeed far, far away and only the blue misty pastures at first light, and freshest airs, hinted of its gates.
When hordes rampaged on days of sun and simple joys, stampedes of harrowing confusions and prayers crammed into the packed kingdom-comes of pews, altars, and baths of crimson. And life eventually regained itself but barely recovered in the redundancy through fleeting times. For what few can tell of the rains of tears and sorrows of the innocents? And one would say calamity came because it was earned, and another would say calamity came without cause.
And All Tried To Get On And Could Not Help Their Innocence — A Kind Mistaken For Ignorance, And Through Time The World Finding Many Other Names For It.
But so did many first lights arrive and first fights with the kingdoms all out there somewhere while fading banners continued to wave and the road taken back to the castle was walked once more. There it stood, dark and covered with vines and thorns. It had always been there, but at its ramparts first light revealed it for what it was.
But This Is Where One Finally Discovers The Crown — Not The Crafted Diadem Of Gold Placed Upon The Head, But The Radiant, Corona-Maned King: The Living Heart Of The Kingdom.
Seen Fit To Hold Order And Justice
Seen Fit To Be A Servant Of The People
Seen Fit To Guard What Is Entrusted
Whose Inner Order Creates Harmony In The Outer Kingdom?
No Longer “My Territory, My Dynasty, My Tribe, My Nation, My Ideology,” The Crown Dispossessed Of Its Measure Of Control.
It is perhaps no surprise that the word “King” has become difficult for modern ears. We think immediately of politics, inherited privilege, or power over others. Yet older traditions often pointed toward something far more interior.
Where Power Becomes Stewardship And The Crown Becomes Symbolic.
Where The Kingdom Is No Longer A Nation.
It Is Consciousness Itself.
One Governs Not Subjects...
...But Impulses,
Not Provinces...
...But The Heart.
What we once sought in Kings and Queens may have been pointing all along, toward capacities waiting to awaken within every person. Every family creates heirs of one kind or another — not always to a throne, but to a way of being. Unlike the kings and queens we imagine, we inherit something far more powerful: The Capacity To Choose.
What Of The Unquestioned, Accepted Inheritance?
Which Inheritance Is Truly Mine To Carry?
Which Inheritance Can I Respectfully Lay Down?
We are fascinated — or sometimes find a strange comfort — in the search for the criminality of others. Perhaps because it is easier to prosecute the outer kingdom than to govern the inner one. Yet the first kingdom in need of justice has always been closer than we imagine. Before we seek crime without, we might first consider the crime in all — not as an indictment of our humanity, nor as a condemnation of ourselves or others, but as the unfinished places within us that still await justice, mercy, and reconciliation.
Perhaps this is the quieter coronation. Not the crowning of one above the many, but the awakening of a sovereignty that begins within. A kingdom where power becomes stewardship, justice is tempered by mercy, and authority is measured not by dominion over others, but by the patient governance of one’s own heart.
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