Seeing the World Through Open Eyes

The King and his Realm​

Ever onward does he look.
Witness to a single splash of sunlight.
Undaunted he is, even in the face of evil.
A coward not, resting upon a throne of amber.
Leaves of gold fluttering from his mane.
An oak, brother to time and seer of truth.
As ever onward does he look.
Witness to a single splash of sunlight.

I decided to create this thread because I believe in a different kind of poetry.
You see, the place I live in is full of poets. But they are subject to social demand.
Here, I can finally practice poetry in it's purest form: a man, and his thoughts. No social ridicule, no public demand.
Because I finally feel like I'm seeing the world through open eyes.

Caligraphy​

The warmth of spring sunshine falls unto him.
He sits legs crossed in a sea of apple blossoms.
A creek flows next to him as gracefuly as the flow of time itself.
He presses his brush to the parchment.
Birds sing in the trees as he paints one character.
Peace.
He sets his brush down.
All is silent.
Eyes closed, legs crossed, straighted back, hands in his lap.
He waits for another dream to come.

Life In Perspective​

Why fret when you can laugh?
Why worry when you can relax?
Why hate when you can love?
Why feel guilt when you can tell truth?
Why do you welcome death?
When life is beckoning for you to enjoy the fruit?