I thought it an empire
Tumbling from the sky
With torn and faded banners,
Crumbling to dust;
Dust so fine my hair is white,
False wrinkles caked with age.
My empire is great--
My kingdom as vast as yours,
But our people are now the dust of centuries
Lost through misdirection.
If my empire is made of truth,
It is slipping fast.

If everything is made of feeling,
My edge is all left to me:
The razor used to bleed me,
Used to bleed by itself,
And now it needs help.

I thought I saw my empire
Tumbling from the sky,
But it was yours:
Your crumbling kingdom of despair
Where you’d spent your rage
On the court fool
And ordered a new one each day.

Have I subtracted your boredom,
Your misgivings?

Grow used to this misery.
You may borrow my dusty empire for the hour.