That high king
with big ears and grin
I'm an ant below this concrete throne
I am a street dog in from the cold
begging a bone
Oh high king seven stories up much finer
In your presence
My existance no more than a one liner
and if it puts a smile on your face
I served my purpose
I underestimated you without grace
always feeling out of pace and place
and now I look up from my tiny face
and know I own nothing
Nothing is mine
A restless blessing
As I attempt to dance
The way you do with galaxies
around my planet
that seems to fatten me
every second was given
by you, each one I now heed
that you can take back at light speed
So I blow a kiss and beg another day on one knee
another decade to create my joke
develop my punchline poke
then be merrily put to sleep
dead eyes through the coffin glass peep
perfume of mediocrity
I'd like to know you like a best friend
like the long lost father to us who mends
Our broken beginnings and bent endings
yet you are up there too high
meager me here after crumbs before I die
But I don't intend to be your pest
and if cleaning the rough miles of rock in your throne room
is my only fate I'll jump for joy and reach for a broom
My human form a tease and a correction
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