Each time I walk through the rooms of the palace of the Louvre, I am constantly struck by new and unfamiliar details. While everyone is swooning over Venus or La Joconde, I lock eyes with aspects such as a door, a ceiling, a corner, or a forgotten wall. Symbols and memories of monarchs of the past, I stand in admiration of the golden ages, and I realize how even the smallest details can influence any creative being, transforming what we capture into our personal form of expression.
To whom your presence is always extant, not only in your great attractions, but in the details you left behind…
The world was their kingdom
Across vast plains and open seas
The age of terrifying glory
Or glorious terror as it seems
As I walk through these walls, you are awakened
Where eternal sleep has slayed your fight
But a dreamer's heart is seldom mistaken
And a promise whispers: "We have yet to bid the world goodnight."
I salute a regal presence in turbulent dance
Through walls and spaces brimming in betrayal, drained by romance
Some look down with arrogance in their flair
While others remain broken from a dreadful affair
And as some proclaim their victories
Others shall morn throughout the centuries
Kings and Queens of an abundant past
In hopes and prayers of tales that may last
Your Sleeping Majesties and esteemed guest
For in your kingdom I shall always pay my respects
“And may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest”
“My Crown is in my heart, not on my head:
Not deck'd with Diamonds, and Indian stones:
Nor to be seen: my Crown is call'd Content,
A Crown it is, that seldom Kings enjoy.”
William Shakespeare
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