Going through some old sermons from Anglican days I came across this poem I wrote in 1984, and had forgotten about. What do you think?
The Page
I saw a king presiding on his throne;
his robes were fine, his features kind, but stern.
He saw envoys, ambassadors and men
with urgent messages who rushed in.
He had advisors with portfolios,
oily men concerned with profit and loss.
Then I saw, standing at the king’s right hand,
a small page in white and red, a boy of ten.
He held a silver tray and stood in place;
His face held great quietness and peace.
He waited, never bored, until the king called
The he lifted his eyes, smiled and said, “My Lord?”
Interesting! Were you thinking of yourself when you wrote it?I had a friend who was very into Renaissance Faire and re-enacting medieval times. He played the part of a servant to his friend who went as a great noble. My friend learned that to be a good servant, you *always* have to have your eyes on your master, so you’ll notice as soon as he gestures that he wants something.
I’m not sure. I just wanted to reflect on the role of becoming as a little child in a world of grown up idiocy and also the role of being a servant of the king. Someone else has pointed out that the poem also points to Christ the suffering servant who sits at God’s right hand.