The Return of The Sacred King: Finding & Integrating A (Re)Generative Masculinity

Before you read this poem, you may want to read my article on midlife crisis, adult developmental thinking, and transformation.

The free folk are worried, suffering, and pained
Despair strikes bells of the four corners to ring
Each boy cries out—his heart has been maimed
By the treacherous, tyrannous, chartering King

Tribes of blood brothers fight in cages
Storms of water and shame rile all the nations
Fires burn down forests; boys flare-up in rages
And tricksters spread tales of eternal desolation

The King’s Mages have fallen under shadowy spells
Denying the Mystery, they split men asunder
Outrage and lies spill from dank shells
The King’s Soldiers kill hope with mercantile thunder

Mighty Protectors regress into nature’s dark Poachers
That were once held in check by Eros’ sweet gaze
Flighty, fighty, feisty—destructive as roaches
Men are lost in wisdom’s toughest maze

Rites of passage—of mystical rights and blessings
Wake spoilt princes from childish stupors
Ears are tuned to songs of spring’s resettings
Knights are (re)born as dazzling troopers

Through paths of shite and paths of woe
Onwards tread the Knights toward meaning’s troves.
They vanquish dragons, trolls, and deadly foes
By finding harmony within their own silent groves

On twisted tracks of darkness, thorns do rent
Flesh lesions festering in thighs and feet
Yet hark—the stately strings soaring are meant
To inspire faith with each ticking heartbeat

Onwards, upwards to the summit men must plunge
As false horizons herald endless fake dawns
Slashing spears will gash sides with lunges
They must grieve—and each loss mourn.

Through thickets and swamps of deathly cults
With blades of truth men cut and thrust
Swords sharpened by healing the soul’s tumults
And burnished by heeding Dionysian musk.

The Knights must avoid sickly sweet temptations
Even as hunger scourges the plains
Once forlorn, man pacifies rancorous nations
Enlivened by mana from fructifying rains

On this path worn down by ancestral flints
Radiant queens quench enflamed hearts
Healing tears and fears—righting damages and dents
Our raw wounds sealed by Cupid’s sharp darts

Blessings from the Father are now given freely
Hearts fill with hope in sons and daughters
Royal trumpets once again call out in glory
The King has returned to dance the four quarters!

Reuniting the schisms within can each man finds wholeness
Taking their rightful place on sun-soaked thrones
Now they can stride out once again in boldness
Unafraid to lead, love, or be alone

As yin becomes yang, mojo becomes moxie
Events attract the opposites with the help of the Fool
Kings have the power to alchemize orthodoxy
And, without violence, challenge outdated rules

King Ashoka sends into howling winds emblazoned kites
Inviting boys and their brothers to fresh heights ascend
Ra shines the ka to embolden hearts with sunlight
Bringing all back to the ground in humble descent

We boldly go forth dressed in love’s argent chainmail
We let go of fantastical whining, whirling, and rage
Only then do we rise up to meet each fail
And take our true stand as a Warrior-Sage

Calling forth from our shattered breasts
Purpose—at once divine and profane
Flies freely from our hearts; joyfully broken
by shared suffering and endless shame

Once Odin reunites with his fierce lover Isis
He brings forth new life in each decaying nether
Free of cravings and cavings, he is reborn as Osiris
And love lifts him—sky high—with eagle’s feathers

The King is dancing—nay jiving—across the quadrants
Shiva acts incisively—sourced in Parvati’s warm womb
Wounds—now whole—unleash enlivening currents
The flowers and homes once more start to bloom

“Choose—now!—which wasteland your heart will regenerate”
The Wild Man whispers to us each night and day
“Lose your Self in service and your kingdom you can exhilarate”
and stays—softly by our side—as we enter the fray