👑 The Divine Right and the Roman Priest

A King once spoke with heavy breath,

To call for a meddlesome prelate's death.

Young Henry sighed for a quiet throne,

To claim the power as his alone. 🕯️

The Archbishop fell on the holy floor,

While knights stood guarding the cathedral door.

They thought the State should have its way,

And silence what the soul might say. 🗡️

Now echoes rise from a modern tongue,

Where ancient grievances are flung.

A leader glares across the sea,

At a Pope who speaks of liberty. 🌊

He claims the conclave chose this man,

To foil a purely secular plan.

"Without my seat," the leader cries,

"The Vatican would surely rise." 🏛️

He sees the Church as a tool of might,

To serve his cause and his political fight.

A unitary hand must hold the rod,

And never bow to the Word of God. ⚖️

But the Shoes of the Fisherman do not fit,

The man who claims all worldly wit.

For Leo stands on a different ground,

Where Mercy and truth are always found. 👞

The clash is old as the dust of kings,

The tension that a conscience brings.

When power meets a holy light,

It seeks to shroud the truth in night. 🌑

The Archbishop's ghost still haunts the hall,

To warn of a ruler's certain fall.

No crown can claim a divine right,

To extinguish every candle’s light. 👻

The priest is meddlesome, they say,

Because he stands in the tyrant's way.

He speaks for those who have no voice,

And offers up a different choice. 🗣️

The border walls and the iron gate,

Are challenged by the Church's state.

For Leo sees the human soul,

Beyond a leader’s sharp control. 🧱

The brand of shoes is not the same,

Nor is the source of a holy name.

One seeks the glory of the self,

The other puts it on the shelf. 👟

So let the lanterns burn so bright,

Against the shadows of the night.

The meddlesome priest will always stand,

As a conscience for a weary land. 🔦

Protect the lines that keep us free,

From kings who demand homage on knee.

The Church and State must walk apart,

To save the nation’s beating heart. ❤️