The Last Emperor

The Last Emperor

Resplendent on his throne, looking down

Enfolded in his richly red-coloured gown

Passing judgement on all that come here

Sentence carried out, but mistakes so dear

But inscrutable, he admits only past error

And for the criminal now, tells of terror

Severe words given, as befits a learned man

But casts his mind back, but one short span

Would that he had been so learned that day

And would that he could undo, and unsay

Children suffered abuse, his bad decision

But he is a mandarin, immune to derision

Even so, sometimes, he has sleepless nights

Hearing the cries, pondering all the rights

So he will admit to past mistakes, after all

We all make errors, stumble, sometimes fall

After all, people were not as sharp in the past

But no sackcloth and ashes, penitential fast

He may regret, but apologise for the wrongs

A pious man, he goes to church, sings songs

And confesses his mistake, a private creed

That turns its back on those calling in need

Compassion, reaching out a hand, saying sorry

These are matters for which he has no worry

And there he is, upon his throne, once more

So deaf he does not hear a knocking on the door

"Behold, I stand at the door and knock", a voice

But he has long ago made his way, his choice.