Once upon a time, there was a boy.
He wished for the best and saw the best.
So half his heart was given to a queen.
She was the honey. Sweet to the taste,
but the consequences of choices turned the reign dark.
For many years the kingdom was peaceful
but it had became divided,
its feet a mix of iron and clay.
Eleven years passed. Almost twelve now.
Even time withers like the grass, in a sense.
A shadow had descended on the land.
The wild dogs, the attic and basement dwellers,
They corrupted the goodness of what was meant to be.
Or should have been
The queen ruled with persuasive power,
the king with an iron first,
and the right balance disrupted with disobedience.
The little king soon lost his way.
At times, he was critical of his queen,
arrogant in knowledge,
prideful in posture.
This contributed to the shattering.
Worried by how the dominion was ruled,
And ashamed of his own dark reign
he escaped to the wilderness.
Or was the desert kingdom planted with thornbushes since the start of his reign?
In the worst of the wilderness,
he saw the idol smashed.
The chains broken.
He learned to be still.
To re-forge silver.
To discover the limitations he lived with.
To surrender.
And there he encountered a burning Presence.
In the wandering,
he found a white stone
in the desert of red rocks and sand.
An old-new name was given to him,
Was it for the trumpet sound?
To lead others from their own wilderness?
To rule with a flipped heart?
He had secured an inheritance,
and was placed into his own land.
It was a coronation moment,
Not a reunion with the queen of dark honey,
but with the Bride of Christ.
The first was part of the formation,
but not his future.
All because a heart that chases the Lord?
It remains steadfast.
The heat may come,
or the stormy gales blow,
but he who holds fast to the Rock
claims the Crown of Life.
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