Empty Hearts and Empty Thrones
Given the pronouncements of an end to capitalism since the great economic catastrophe of the past few years, I found this poem I wrote years ago rather fitting. Though at the time I wrote it, it was meant as being a meditation on my own existential angst, I think it could apply to so many who seek out the benefits of raw materialism and fail to see anything beyond of a transcendent nature. Where does one end in a life defined by the ceaseless quest for meaning as reflected in objects?
Empty Hearts and Empty Thrones
Years have gone by and here I sit upon my once cherished throne
In my youth I would salivate at the opportunity to be so revered
How grand my portrait does loom upon the wall, larger than life
Like divine law, my word seems to scatter the ocean of men beneath
All the trappings of wealth and power at my fingertips
A spent life in the pursuit of the gold than now adorns my furrowed brow
Happy should I seem for whose dreams bear this forbidden fruit?
Yet restless have I become for this is not enough, never enough
Once when I was just another face, I was fuller than I am today
Once when I had nothing to my name but a few ideals, I was satisfied
How long ago it does seem when my hair was dark, my body strong
Then, though, did I look to the horizon for a day yet to come
Then, though, I had my love, my soul always seemed to wander
But today this throne might well be empty, for I fail to fill it
I fail to fill anything anymore, worthless are these idle extravagances
A tear trickles down my cheek from my eye as I look back
Like so many before, I sit with an empty heart upon an empty throne
Empty Hearts and Empty Thrones
Years have gone by and here I sit upon my once cherished throne
In my youth I would salivate at the opportunity to be so revered
How grand my portrait does loom upon the wall, larger than life
Like divine law, my word seems to scatter the ocean of men beneath
All the trappings of wealth and power at my fingertips
A spent life in the pursuit of the gold than now adorns my furrowed brow
Happy should I seem for whose dreams bear this forbidden fruit?
Yet restless have I become for this is not enough, never enough
Once when I was just another face, I was fuller than I am today
Once when I had nothing to my name but a few ideals, I was satisfied
How long ago it does seem when my hair was dark, my body strong
Then, though, did I look to the horizon for a day yet to come
Then, though, I had my love, my soul always seemed to wander
But today this throne might well be empty, for I fail to fill it
I fail to fill anything anymore, worthless are these idle extravagances
A tear trickles down my cheek from my eye as I look back
Like so many before, I sit with an empty heart upon an empty throne
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