For my friends

If you want to be consumed
Than gather the sticks from your bedrooms
And gather round the fire, any one
For all need tinder, all desire wood
And burn, burn till the sticks have become coals
And your eyes stinging with smoke
Become embers in the night
And if you want to become king
Than learn the ways of your people,
You shall have to know their tradition if you wish to feel the crown
Upon your head and the throne against your back.
You shall have to dance in order to hear their praise;
A motionless king can expect no better than the grave
Regicides plotted guiltless in the shadow of the clock tower

-victoria, dec 1. 2007