isekai

i.
to be felled with misfortune
at hands of your own
laying under cries
whose faces you recall
must be better than ascending
in spires anointed with oil
suffocating under prayers
whose tongue you never learned

ii.
what is a king in foreign land
draped with silk
doused in spices
powdered by praise
he must’ve believed himself to be one

yet when he rests his dust remains restless
for the clay from whence he came
was not the ground in which he lay

better a beggar in streets
from whence was borne
uncovered and reeking
crying ‘poor tom’

iii.
to masquerade in a casket of native soil
a foreign soul
proved an arduous task

novelty i suppose
was followed by awe
only to regress politely
demanding a response
only to turn into confusion
with every passing second
for a man that never learned
to walk