Rising Empire

Striding forward towards the thundering sea of my people,
my future – glorious! King! King! They call to me –
I answer with raised hands, bedecked in the jewelled
fashion of my station, my war badges, seen

and unseen, show my worth. This gilded crown
is lighter than the flimsiest of armour, a golden
target for my head. All will serve me in awe
for I am the Sword-King, the Emperor of Battle

the Monarch of the Rising Empire.

The sun rises, ruby-red and bright like fresh blood,
in my eyes where past battles are fighting – every time
a struggle for survival, every sweep of the sword
and swift, silent knife could be my death. I was lucky

or skilled. I lived and saw my brothers die – we
celebrated their battle deaths with bitter wine even
as the carrion wheeled above, celebrating their bodies –
their battle cries, thunder booming, ever echo in my mind, I

the Monarch of the Rising Empire.

The future is fraught with peril, I see my death at the
hands of allies and enemies alike, for sovereignty is a
celebrated, jealous state – they will want as I wanted,
they will aspire as I did. A god, the crowd views me

in golden majesty, shining with the light of Sun, glowing with
ambrosia, my body – Elysian Fields for the women I desire –
none deny. I laboured in battle and in the pampered courts,
a far more treacherous arena, for this throne, eternally

the Monarch of the Rising Empire.

Mine, all before me and beyond, by the blood of my brothers
in arms – can I honour their deaths? I will lead this Sunrise Land
as a general to his army. As I stand, awash with glory and fame and
power – shuddering with tangible supremacy – my blood sings, I am

the Rising Empire.

Finally! Something not angsty! Inspired by a piece of music called 'Rising Empire' and Alexander the Great (although this king is highly fictional).