Monkey King.

Golden light glints,
sending shadows showering
into dark patinaed crevices.

Long lithe arms hang loose.
Ready at his side.
Bejewelled hands in lap – as at rest.

His eyes shuttered down
behind light-heavy lids.
The Monkey King sees all.

A steadfast smile,
more radiant contentment,
than corners upturned.

That mighty chest;
a bone shrine of devotion,
heart-ready to burst forth.

His love, shining through discipline,
enhances, no, creates
the glow.