We adapt to take over the cosmos.
We three kings: Arthos, Aramis and Porthos.
The best word in your tongue was musketeer
But honestly, we never cared for it.
Still, we were mindful of your accent
And thus adapted in an attempt to save you from this descent.
Much good that that did us
To this day you humans STILL fear us.
What a waste! What a lie!
Have me questioning who on earth am I
When I was the great power of three
Not in a god-sense…
Several times I told you, that is not me.
But the number does bring this comfort.
In a maddening age ripe with discomfort.
So you turn and now call us heroes
One strong woman with rope straddling two bros.
You forget that we were the Magi
All your hopes were reflected in OUR eyes.
You forget, we had power
Fought for king, country and honour.
We got lost in the fire of witches
But not even voldermort could try and quench this.
For we are who we are, waiting for you to look above.
We three kings: faith hope and love.
tracy j h
A lord knows a lord when he sees one. Even if the world doesn't. A lord knows.
photo credit: Mariel Brown
taken at Richard Rawlins 5th solo exhibition: "Steupps". Read about it HERE find yuh arse down to Medulla.
*i wrote this piece some days before. made final touches today. but there's something about this photo that reminds me of a good place [mentally].