By Ken Blue
April 23rd, 2013. Filed under: Poems.
BRAIN                 By Ken Blue   Millions of worlds are unseen, each a ruler owns. Each has a little king, defending their prized thrones. Subjects are imaginary, but they do his will. How he achieved all his fame, is a mystery still.   He debates his opponents; shadows on the floor. He’s never lost an argument; kings must know more. His phantom rivals, can never bring him down. For he would no longer rule, he’d lose his stately crown.   These worlds sometimes collide, becoming best of friends. But each remains solitary; no one enters in. Who knows the deceit, or intent in each domain? It’s a secret, as secure as Gibraltar’s fame.   Try hard as you may, there’s room for only one chair. A lifetime of secrets, have accumulated there. Misery is the king’s name, as he hides his private fears. Bottles labeled “loneliness,” are filled with his tears.   But there’s One we know; Who into every kingdom sees. To doors of blame and excuses, He holds the keys. Be wise, oh ye kings, lay aside your temporal crown. Give the King your throne, and kneel as He sits down.   All is rearranged; each chamber is filled with light. The King Eternal is on the throne; it’s His by right. All is transparent, there no secrets in His realm. The inner sanctum’s open now, and ruled by Him.
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