I Am Not a King

I Am Not a King

I am not a king.

Not by temperament,
nor by desire,
nor heritage,
nor popular demand.

I am a small player
in the events of a large world.

When my day is past,
will I be remembered, I hope,
by those whose lives I’ve touched?

When my day is past,
will I be remembered,
I hope,
fondly?

Perhaps those who have known me,
or who have been affected
by the battles I’ve waged,
or the paths I’ve walked,
will tell the tales
of “Chris” to their children.

Perhaps not.

Likely, my name,
my life’s deeds,
as they are destined,
will find the world’s dusty corners.

In forgotten libraries…

This does not sadden me.

For I measure my success in life
by the added value
my presence brings
to those I love.

And by those I feel love me.

No…

I am not suited
for the fame of a worldly king,
or the grandiose
reputation of a giant among men.

But I love all the same.

When my pink rose blows a kiss to me,
tis’ an inferno that makes me melt.

When my children tug at my fingers,
we romp with the fury
that makes those
two little boys giggle.

When my puppies,
my friends,
lick my tired face,
and wave frantic tails…

Tis’ because I excite them.

Yet, can it be that simple?

The reason I am here?

To find in those I love
the spark
that makes us want to live?

- Christopher Harris