By Sydney _________________________
chanting the name of the greatest king.
The king stands tall without bowing his head,
yet his crown trembles upon his head
whether from the roaring voices,
or from the trembling of his own body.
Together people throw red roses,
until a drop of blood falls
from a child's finger pricked by a thorn.
Yet no one can say the difference
between the color of the flower and the blood.
For all around, everything appears the same.
The great king is welcomed at the gate of blinding light,
All the people rejoice and celebrate.
Laughter echoes between trumpets and drums,
until a tear falls unnoticed.
The sun burns their skin,
the rain washes away traces of toil on weary faces,
yet they remain standing and cheering.
The greatest king is truly the greatest,
praised, loved, and worshipped by his people.
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