You raised it from the bone of doubt,
From fractured stone and whispered vow.
You lifted it above the dust
And named the height as something just.
You carved your certainty in flame,
Let judgment wear your chosen name.
You crowned the echo of your voice
And called the silence choice.
Higher.
Further from the ground.
You ascend the throne.
Right dissolves
In your hands.
You ascend the throne.
Fair becomes
What you command.
You shaped the law in your own form,
Smoothed the edges, kept it warm.
You weighed the world from polished stone
And never questioned what you owned.
From where you sat the lines were clear,
The distance swallowed doubt and fear.
The lower voices blurred below,
Like something you would never know.
Clear.
Untouched by doubt.
You ascend the throne.
Truth bends
To your design.
You ascend the throne.
Justice speaks
In your voice.
The higher you climbed,
The thinner the air.
The louder you ruled,
The less you could hear.
You ascend the throne.
Above the plea.
Above the cry.
You ascend the throne.
And call it divine.
This lie, this throne,
Just another broken bone.
This greed, this lust,
Just another dust.