Not for comfort
But for power
He sits before the assembled
And displays that his
Is the hand
That rules
Not for their pleasure
But for his throne
He rules with exquisite grip
Fearlessly
Should he pale at a command
Should he trip
Upon his ascent
Someone may betray him
So for now
At least
He is seated
In a throne of iron
Where he can survey the ruled
And know he is safe
From hidden daggers
And agendas
