The Emperor is a Shadow

Look —
how the candlelight makes giants
dance on temple walls
while mice scurry beneath the throne

Authority is a trick of light
projected by our own
bowed heads and bent knees
onto empty space

The crown floats
like morning mist
over the river
claiming to own its flow

Who holds the match?
Who feeds the flame?
Who taught us to mistake
shadows for gods?

In the marketplace
ten thousand subjects bow
to an empty robe
filled with yesterday’s wind

Power lives
in the space between
your eyes and mine
a shared hallucination

The scepter is bamboo
The palace, morning dew
The decree dissolves
in summer rain

Listen:
the cricket’s song
holds more truth
than any imperial edict

Now —
wake up, dear friend
blow out the candle
and watch the emperor disappear

In darkness
we find our way
by touching hands
instead of shadows