The Shadow of the Crown
Within the marble halls where shadows dance,
A silent wisdom shapes each chance.
"Outshine not the master," old voices warn—
A subtle art, where gifts are worn.
On gilded thrones, egos softly gleam,
Their fragile worth a waking dream.
A spark too bright in youthful eyes
Can summon storms from clouded skies.
Not dullness asked, nor brilliance veiled,
But grace in shining, gently scaled.
Let masters see their wisdom’s hand
In every triumph you have planned.
For envy’s sting, so swift and cold,
Can silence songs before they’re told.
A whispered slight, a shadow cast,
Can dim your brilliance, hold you fast.
So weave your worth in quiet thread,
A force that’s felt, not always said.
Lift gently those who hold the sway,
And shape your path, a patient way.
Be steadfast, wise—a trusted guide,
A loyal heart at power’s side.
And when the crown seeks fresher light,
Your subtle glow will guide the night.
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