This day has come too soon
or twenty years to late —
I am uncertain. Still, listening
to songbirds wake me here
where I am happy, having 
for once in my life not dreamed
of you, I have arrived in the center
of all I've ever wanted. Yes, 
you choose still to be there
running in circles, distracted
by good deeds and dressed up
in finery, having sucked me dry
of golden nectar, unknowingly
or not, and squandered it on
lesser things. Sitting in your
Emperor chair over there,
blind to how it is I that met you
in every moment of despair,
you looked the other way,
went around the loop again,
playing out the same role,
allowing ones I have loved and,
in loving, soothed and healed
to mark me with permanent pen as
something other than who I am.
You are not oblivious as once
I believed. You stand in full 
knowing, openly defiant and
full of contempt for what you say
you stand for, and I will have
nothing of it. Take your harem
of half-hearted admirers who
tell you what you want to hear
and poison you while you are
sleeping, caught up in a sickness
of repeating the same old lines
ten thousand times. I will do battle.
I have found the courage to pick up
this sword of light to draw a circle
where only you may enter in. 
But you must come clean
or do not come at all.