The Borrowed Crown
The Borrowed Crown Before mountains learned their names, Before stars rehearsed their fire, Before time drew its first breath And space opened its empty hands— He Is. Not became. Not arose. Not assembled from lesser things. But Is. The oceans of being are droplets to Him. Galaxies are sparks beneath His feet. Ages pass like dust motes in a sunbeam Before the weight of His eternal Now. What are kingdoms? What are empires? What are all the proud towers of men, Their coins, banners, weapons, monuments? A whisper in thunder. A shadow in noonlight. A grain of sand trying to outweigh the sea. And what are we? Breath wrapped in clay. Questions wearing skin. Fragile lamps trembling in the wind. Creatures who bruise, forget, hunger, and fade. Yet behold the impossible wonder: The Infinite bends low. The One beyond measure Looks upon the measured. The Source of all splendor Calls dust beloved. And in that gaze Ash becomes gold. Clay remembers glory. The s...