Upon a throne of ancient stone and gold,
A story of a sovereign is told.
Draped in the fire of a thousand gems,
The queen who wears the world's diadems.
AK sits poised in a shimmer of light,
The sun by day, and the star by night.
Rubies like embers glow on her skin,
Marking the fire that burns within.
Sapphires deep as the midnight sea,
Mirror her gaze of calm decree.
Emeralds wrap around her wrist,
Like secrets kept in a morning mist.
The weight of the gold is light as air,
Woven into her flowing hair.
But the brightest spark in the palace hall,
Is the iron will that commands them all.
For the jewels are merely a glittering frame,
For the power that dwells within the name.
To the pure of heart, she is silk and pearl,
The gentlest breath in a chaotic world.
She offers a hand of velvet and lace,
Reflecting the kindness in her face.
A bounty of silver, a chest of gold,
For the loyal souls and the brave and bold.
But to the shadows that plot in the dark,
She is the diamond—cold, sharp, and stark.
If you bring a thorn to her garden of rose,
The gates of mercy forever will close.
She'll turn her jewels into shards of glass,
And watch the empires of villains pass.
The world is her court, the stars her crown,
No force on earth can pull her down.
The strings of the globe are hers to play,
In a royal dance, in a rhythmic sway.
AK remains where the high winds sing,
The jewel-crowned queen, the world's true king.