Crown and mace destroy the place
where right and kindness meet.
Crown and mace with imperial rights,
Bludgeoned and bloodied those who take flight.
Slaughtered a patient love.
Crown and mace create a place,
For a shameful rise in power.
Trees’ been razed.
The axe felled a calm, delightful bower.
The milk’s gone sour,
Left out in the sun.
Honeycomb’s torn by robber bees
Hungry for sweetmeat treats.
But in the slow and silent hours,
Before the world’s awake,
There’s a whispered harmony,
A familiar unknown, melody,
A small, priceless key.
It's the silver, golden sounds the pure in heart intake,
“Dear one, when the bower’s devoured
Just plant another tree.”
Julie George
“Mercy is above this sceptered sway”
William Shakespeare
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