The Thunder Of The Moorish Steam

A Duet Between Queen Seraphina And King Lucan

Queen Seraphina
The veil grows thin, the hush is torn 
The Moorish flame must now be sworn
Our sons are called, our blood must rise
The storm is written in the skies

King Lucan
I do not seek the blade in vain
But silence now becomes disdain
The King of Denmark refused in haste 
While Moorish diplomacy was laid to waste

Queen Seraphina
Then rise, my King, with sovereign breath
Declare the vow that conquers death
Let every throne that deem us to fall 
Now tremble at your battle call

King Lucan
I raise my arm, I bare my chest
I speak for those who died unblessed
This war is not for fleeting fame
It’s for the echo of our name

Queen Seraphina
Let every Queen now braid her hair
And whisper prayers into the air
Let every child who bears the seal of fate 
Be shielded by ancestral grace to mentally accommodate

King Lucan
I do not march for hollow peace
I move with thunder when disunite reeks
The Moorish stream will not be drained 
Our legacy will not be chained

Queen Seraphina
Then let the drums of Kush resound 
Let sacred soil be battle ground
You are the flame, the sword, the cry
The one who dares to never die

King Lucan
I call the sons of Sheba’s line
The crowned, the fierce, the flame-born sign
Let Denmark hear our sovereign roar 
Let every gate prepare for war

Queen Seraphina
We do not beg, we do not kneel 
We rise in rhythm, vow, and steel
The Moorish race is not erased 
It lives in every kiss we’ve placed

King Lucan
I do not fight for land alone
I fight for every sacred bone
For every Queen who held the flame
For every King denied his name

Queen Seraphina
So let the scroll be sealed in fire
Let every heart become a lyre
We sing, we strike, we rise, we reign
And never bow to bloodless chain

King Lucan
I ride with thunder in my chest
With ancestors who never rest
The Nile, the stars, the sacred stream
All rise with me in sovereign’s dream

Queen Seraphina
Then go, my King, with rhythm crowned 
Let every step shake sacred ground
And when you roar, let Heaven hear 
The Moorish race will not disappear

King Lucan
I do not ride alone tonight
My Queen walks with me into light
And if I fall, let scrolls remain
To speak our truth beyond the pain

Queen Seraphina
You are the thunder, I the flame
Together we rewrite the name
So let the battle scroll be sung 
The Moorish race is never young 
It is eternal, crowned, and bold
A legacy that will never be sold

All Rights Reserved
 

Poem Inspired From The Video (Beautiful Immortality-King Lucan Ziediah VIII Video).