Czar Nicholas

A poem he tried to quote,

and words of color,

rhythms new and old,

woven cloth

of just a length

to hold in breath and mind.

it finally now came forth

the poem was spoken whole.

He found it searching memory

the song, the play and shape,

the one thought and key

the thought to hold that one could speak,

the tint of prophecy,

to fill those empty rooms,

places vacant, left by empty men,

wastelands clean and vacant.

In exile he, and sentenced to be martyred,

a czar of rainbow lands,

alone in rooms he stands,

with none but family for

all was forced and taken..

So what is left to him that had a kingdom,

to him who reigned

where culture rich

owed loves to God and man?

He stands alone and starts to speak…

a poem – the poem, the only poem

and once again, the world is grand.