Know Your Wealth, King

O mighty king, in robes so fine,
You count each coin and draw each line,
With emeralds set in sword and ring—
But do you know your wealth, O king?

The banners rise, your trumpets sound,
Your name is sung for miles around,
Yet in your gaze, a restless flame—
A thirst that gold cannot reclaim.

Your vaults are deep, your lands are wide,
You ride with thousands at your side,
Yet still the night brings silent fears—
What cannot gold erase, my dear?

You think your worth is chiseled stone,
In palaces you call your own,
But stone will crack and vines will grow,
And time will take what kingdoms know.

Know your wealth in morning air,
That greets you soft and strokes your hair.
In breath that comes without a price,
And limbs that move in paradise.

Know it in the mother's song,
In old tales whispered all night long,
In loyal hands that guard your door,
Not for the coin, but love they swore.

In every laugh your child gives,
In knowing that your father lives
In values taught and lessons passed—
These are the gems that ever last.

The feast you share, the bread you break,
The words you choose, the peace you make.
The friend who speaks when all have fled—
These count more than the crowns you've bled.

The wealth is in the scholar's scroll,
The silent monk, the peasant’s role,
In every hand that lifts the poor,
And finds its joy in giving more.

A kingdom built not just of walls,
But mercy echoed in its halls,
A court that listens to the small—
This is a reign that will not fall.

For every child who reads and dreams,
And drinks from free and flowing streams,
For every field your care has fed—
This is your legacy instead.

The sage who speaks beneath your tree,
Not chained by fear, but roaming free,
Who dares to tell the bitter truth—
That voice is more than tenfold ruth.

Yes, count the stars if count you must,
But count as well your people's trust.
For what are jewels if none remain
To bless your name or speak your reign?

The sword may win, the flag may fly,
But empires crumble, kings will die.
Yet those who loved and dared to grow—
Leave behind more than what they know.

So listen, king, and bend your ear,
The world is vast, and yet so near.
Your wealth is not in gold or grain,
But in the love your hands sustain.

In every hug, in every prayer,
In justice dealt with patient care,
In tears you wipe, in arms you raise—
These are your richest, truest days.

And when your final breath shall sigh,
When stars fall dim and voices cry,
Let it be said in every tongue:
"Here ruled a king both wise and young."

Young not in age, but soul and sight—
Who ruled with heart, with grace, with light.
For wealth is more than land or wing…
So know your wealth, and live, O king.