The saint

Stop calling me ""The King""
The Angel of the Throne
Fled in Blue - flattened wings
Melody reigns around me
The mat of grass gone frozen
When I penance on it - though I flaming.

I excavate history and the
Essence of celestial nymph
Environs my Spiritual-Platform.

The sleeping volcano of my kinghood and
Their spread heart opened on
Sweet-Frost moonlight.

Stop calling me ""The King""
Now, I just a Saint.