​I Don’t Want the Kingdom

​I Don’t Want the Kingdom

There are days
when I am angry with Him.

I raise my voice.
I question Him.
Sometimes, I even shout.

There are moments
when I want to push Him away,
lock Him somewhere in the darkness,
and silence that calm voice
that keeps telling me:

Do your duty.
Do not ask for the fruit.

And yet…

somewhere deep inside,
I know He is right.

Perhaps
that is what hurts the most.

Because what is victory
if the heart is left wounded?

The Pandavas won the battle.
They won the kingdom.
The war came to an end.

But around that victory
were widows weeping,
children without fathers,
mothers mourning their sons,
and lives no victory
could ever bring back.

They gained a kingdom.

But what could a kingdom give
to those who had lost everything?

And so I ask:

What is winning?
What is losing?

Is happiness really found
in having more,
achieving more,
proving that we were right?

Or is happiness
something much quieter?

A morning without fear.
A home without hatred.
A heart without anger.
A garden where every living thing
is simply allowed to live.

Perhaps the greatest battle
is not fought with weapons.

Perhaps it is fought
in the silent places within us—

between wanting and accepting,
between anger and peace,
between holding on
and letting go.

And perhaps that is why
I keep arguing with Him.

Because I don’t want a kingdom.

I don’t want to win
at the cost of another’s tears.

I don’t want a victory
that leaves the world wounded.

I only want
a peaceful heart,
a peaceful home,

and a life
where nothing has to lose
for me to believe
that I have won.

Perhaps…

that is the kingdom
I have been searching for
all along.