In the fields outside the kingdom walls

In the fields outside the kingdom walls
there is grain as golden as the skies of heaven,
green grasses, rippling brooks laughing at men,
proud at what they think they do.

Tilling, irrigation, plowing, harvesting,
sloughing, milling, grinding, baking.
Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.
i am a man who forgot i do nothing,
even though i do everything.

cut back, plant - the secret efforts of
a dying pawn. i never forgot the fields
outside the kingdom walls were as much kingdom
as the stately structures inside the walls.
i forgot my place, maybe not even forgetfullness,

maybe i had divine indifference, maybe a pharoh's
heart. i ignored the lillies of the field,
those falling sparrows, i said "Your clothes are
not as splendid as mine, you are not as strong as i."
to the tortise i said "You are not as smart as i."

nothing as i. nothing as i. in the fields outside
the kingdom walls i wore the badge, nothing as i.
i come with empty hands, the day of destruction
is closer than i think. it feeds like an angry owl.

there is beauty in the fields outstide the walls,
and the beauty is the kings, but like destruction
the king remains unseen, a ghost walker among
his people and his lands. and the owl flys at night.

i can not release my hand from the sickle,
it is on the golden wheat in seconds, the song
of the thrash in the afternoon glory. and as the
darkness rolls in i lay down in the cleared grass.

i put myself in the clearing like a slaughtered
lamb, as still as possible, blood on my hands,
blood on my throat. all i know is i am nothing
in the fields outside the kingdom walls.