Ashes of a Golden Man

I was born where chandeliers kissed the sky,

Where wealth was truth, and gold never lied.

A crown without battle, a name that rang loud,

Among kings and giants, I stood proud.

A mansion's child, with walls so wide,

A fleet of dreams parked right outside.

Fathers envied, mothers praised,

In silken circles, I was raised.

My father — wise, a man of steel,

Taught me honor, taught me real.

My mother — soft, her touch divine,

Held my storms in hands so fine.

A sister’s laughter filled the air,

With secrets only siblings share.

My wife — my breath, my sacred vow,

Whose smile could calm the worst of now.

Grandparents old, with eyes like grace,

Their words, a map; their arms, a place.

We sat as one — a fortress strong,

A golden family, full and long.

The world would bow when I would speak,

I didn’t chase — fortune would seek.

Assets, lands, empires signed,

A life most men would never find.

But storms don’t knock — they break the door,

And take much more than gold can store.

Death came quiet, one by one,

Until my sky had lost its sun.

I watched them leave — my blood, my soul,

Each goodbye left a deeper hole.

Father. Mother. Sister dear.

Grandparents gone. My wife? Not near.

No family left. No voice to hear.

No arms to hold me through the fear.

The house turned hollow. The air turned still.

And silence bent me to its will.

Then came the fall — the empire broke,

Assets seized, the lawyers spoke.

Land was sold. My name was erased.

From palaces... to being replaced.

The ones who cheered now turned their backs,

Friends became ghosts, and truth wore cracks.

You — the one I loved the most —

Vanished like a whispered ghost.

You left when I had lost my fight,

When tears became my only night.

Not just the riches, I lost me,

In that deep well of memory.

But somewhere deep beneath the pain,

A spark remained, a drop of flame.

I clenched my fists. I gritted breath.

I stood, though close I was to death.

No servants now, no soft commands,

Just broken nails and bleeding hands.

I built from dust, with fire and sweat,

With every scar, a new sunset.

The man you knew? He died back then.

What rose again… fears no men.

Not born of gold, but born of flame,

Now richer still — in soul and name.

No longer soft, no longer blind,

Now sharp with purpose, steel in mind.

Let them whisper what I’ve lost —

They never paid my kind of cost.

I lost it all — love, blood, and stone.

But rose again, rebuilt alone.

And in my ruin, I found control…

From ashes rose — a greater soul.