The Emergent Sea

Her heft and gilded chalice,
Tapped from her bower bold,
Faintly taste vain malice,
Sup the saccharin cold,

O adore her in repose,
Her erected obelisk,
The eyes of all her foes,
Stone them ye basilisk,

We cleave to her throne,
We prop our schemes abed,
Till sharp tongues hone,
The weakest join the dead,

Harry the weeping wail,
And chisel face proud,
Heavens we assail,
Mighty tower to the cloud,

Now in silent accord,
An order unto us,
May swift end we afford,
To those who cause a fuss,

Now venerate the victim,
Sardonic icon formed,
Cherish her cause verbatim,
Till next our world is stormed,

I know that many idols,
Are hated and then loved,
Yet when they rise I sidle,
To the feet of them above,

Now the age all but creaking,
Tired construct soon to fall,
My heart set in sinking,
Am I to rise tall?

I notice now my peers,
Quieten when I’m around,
When I lay forth my fears,
I scarcely hear a sound,

Her body torn down,
My worries fully grown,
I wear the pretty crown,
A victim set in stone,