Royalty In Blood Quotes

You, what are you? The brat of lucky parents who were related to a childless king. There is no such thing as royal blood. I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.

Chloe nodded meekly. I’d never seen her so demure. “What’s the matter with you?” I hissed at her as we followed Kieran and Solange inside. “She’s royalty!” “And a vampire, remember?” “Oh yeah.” Chloe paused. “Nope, princess trumps vampire.” “Does not.” “So does.

The Princess knew in her heart she is strong, smart, and capable because it is in her blood. - Kailin Gow, Mysterious Teacher (PULSE Vampire Series)

Raisa felt relieved, yet oddly disappointed. She was the blooded princess heir, yet in servants' clothes she was apparently unrecognizable. In the stories, rulers had a natural presence about them that identified them as such, even dressed in rags. What's the nature of royalty, she wondered. Is it like a gown you put on that disappears when you take it off? Does anyone look beyond the finery? Could anyone in the queendom take her place, given the right accessories? If so, it was contrary to everything she'd ever been taught about bloodlines.

Back in 2010, I introduced fairies and fantasy creatures as having silver blood in Bitter Frost and then Silver Frost. This silver blood is what makes them fey versus human or any other creatures. Now in Ring of Ice when there is a convergence of the fey and the dark ones (vampires), you the resemblance between these two race of creatures, which is the next Frost books. After the film release of Bitter Frost of course!

By faith you need to walk like a king, talk like a king, think like a king, dress like a king, smile like a king. Don’t go by what you see. Go by what you know. There is royalty in your DNA. You have the blood of a winner. You were created to reign in life.

I once knew a man who was heir to the throne of a great kingdom, he lived as a ranger and fought his destiny to sit on a throne but in his blood he was a king. I also knew a man who was the king of a small kingdom, it was very small and his throne very humble but he and his people were all brave and worthy conquerors. And I knew a man who sat on a magnificent throne of a big and majestic kingdom, but he was not a king at all, he was only a cowardly steward. If you are the king of a great kingdom, you will always be the only king though you live in the bushes. If you are the king of a small kingdom, you can lead your people in worth and honor and together conquer anything. And if you are not a king, though you sit on the king’s throne and drape yourself in many fine robes of silk and velvet, you are still not the king and you will never be one.

To the loyal and to the blood-lovers, in the good families and in the fiery dynasties, life is family and family is life. It is the same people who give advice and their vices to live well who turn out to be the ones who give resource and reason to live long.

Sometimes blood is the most unfaithful and disloyal relation you’ll ever have.” I’m not fucking

In this place at last a man could stand up free of the past, free of tradition and blood ties and the curse of royalty and become what he wished to become.

What's the matter with you?" I hissed at her as we followed Kieran and Solange inside. 'She's royalty!' "And a vampire, remember?" 'Oh yeah,' Chloe paused. 'Nope, princess trumps vampire.

Royal blood isn't blue, it is a jaundiced shade of red and riddled with broken chromosomes

He had grown up believing in America and the individual and it was a stronger faith than his faith in God. This was the land where no man had to bow. In this place at last a man could stand up free of the past, free of tradition and blood ties and the curse of royalty and become what he wished to become.

Listen to me Igraine,' said the Merlin. 'I fathered you, though that gives me no rights; it is the blood of the Lady which confers royalty, and you are of the oldest royal blood, descended from daughter to daughter of the Holy Isle.

The faith itself was simple; he believed in the dignity of man. His ancestors were Huguenots, refugees of a chained and bloody Europe. He had learned their stories in the cradle. He had grown up believing in America and the individual and it was a stronger faith than his faith in God. This was the land where no man had to bow. In this place at last a man could stand up free of the past, free of tradition and blood ties and the curse of royalty and become what he wished to become. This was the first place on earth where the man mattered more than the state. True freedom had begun here and it would spread eventually over all the earth. But it had begun HERE. The fact of slavery upon this incredibly beautiful new clean earth was appalling, but more even than that was the horror of old Europe, the curse of nobility, which the South was transplanting to new soil. They were forming a new aristocracy, a new breed of glittering men, and Chamberlain had come to crush it. But he was fighting for the dignity of man and i that way he was fighting for himself. If men were equal in America, all the former Poles and English and Czechs and blacks, then they were equal everywhere, and there was really no such thing as foreigner; there were only free men and slaves. And so it was not even patriotism but a new faith. The Frenchman may fight for France, but the American fights for mankind, for freedom; for the people, not the land.

The faith itself was simple: he believed in the dignity of man. His ancestors were Huguenots, refugees of a chained and bloody Europe. He had learned their stories in the cradle. He had grown up believing in America and the individual and it was a stronger faith than his faith in God. This was the land where no man had to bow. In this place at last a man could stand up free of the past, free of tradition and blood ties and the curse of royalty and become what he wished to become. This was the first place on earth where the man mattered more than the state. True freedom had begun here and it would spread eventually over all the earth. But it had begun here. The fact of slavery upon this incredibly beautiful new clean earth was appalling, but more even than that was the horror of old Europe, the curse of nobility, which the South was transplanting to new soil. They were forming a new aristocracy, a new breed of glittering men, and Chamberlain had come to crush it.

I have dignity and style; Royalty runs in my blood

He had grown up believing in America and the individual and it was a stronger faith than his faith in God. This was the land where no man had to bow. In this place at last a man could stand up free of the past, free of tradition and blood ties and the curse of royalty and become what he wished to become. This was the first place on earth where the man mattered more than the state. True freedom had begun here and it would spread eventually over all the earth. But it had begun here. The fact of slavery upon this incredibly beautiful new clean earth was appalling, but more even than that was the horror of old Europe,

It was pitiful for a person born in a wholesome free atmosphere to listen to their humble and hearty outpourings of loyalty toward their king and Church and nobility; as if they had any more occasion to love and honor king and Church and noble than a slave has to love and honor the lash, or a dog has to love and honor the stranger that kicks him! Why, dear me, ANY kind of royalty, howsoever modified, ANY kind of aristocracy, howsoever pruned, is rightly an insult; but if you are born and brought up under that sort of arrangement you probably never find it out for yourself, and don't believe it when somebody else tells you. It is enough to make a body ashamed of his race to think of the sort of froth that has always occupied its thrones without shadow of right or reason, and the seventh-rate people that have always figured as its aristocracies -- a company of monarchs and nobles who, as a rule, would have achieved only poverty and obscurity if left, like their betters, to their own exertions... The truth was, the nation as a body was in the world for one object, and one only: to grovel before king and Church and noble; to slave for them, sweat blood for them, starve that they might be fed, work that they might play, drink misery to the dregs that they might be happy, go naked that they might wear silks and jewels, pay taxes that they might be spared from paying them, be familiar all their lives with the degrading language and postures of adulation that they might walk in pride and think themselves the gods of this world. And for all this, the thanks they got were cuffs and contempt; and so poor-spirited were they that they took even this sort of attention as an honor.

He had grown up believing in America and the individual and it was a stronger faith than his faith in God. This was the land where no man had to bow. In this place at last a man could stand up free of the past, free of tradition and blood ties and the curse of royalty and become what he wished to become. This was the first place on earth where the man mattered more than the state. True freedom had begun here and it would spread eventually over all the earth. But it had begun here. The fact of slavery upon this incredibly beautiful new clean earth was appalling, but more even than that was the horror of old Europe, the curse of nobility, which the South was transplanting to new soil.

My arrival saved the kingdom, while his only reiterated that his blood would fill the throne one day.

Holy smacks are you alright? Should you even be walking? You're covered in blood.

Royalty is an attitude. Your blood has nothing to do with it!

Yet, do not imagine that royal blood is of any significant import. It is not. Often, it is the most impure, arriving at its own creation through vanity and more than a little cruelty. You are of the common folk. By common we mean dancing, singing, weaving, speaking: the ones who could have held their heads high but chose to hold their hands high instead. For they knew that all the universe wanted was their reverence, not their pride.

Remember The Princess and the Pea? She could feel a single pea through dozens of mattresses, and that’s how everyone knew she was of noble blood, even though she’d arrived looking bedraggled and scruffy. It’s supposed to be an example of the saying “breeding will out”, meaning that you can always spot true royalty, even if that someone is dressed in rags. Am I the only one who thinks the moral of this story is all screwed up? You get caught in a storm and knock on a stranger’s door in the middle of the night to ask for shelter... then when they ask how you slept, you COMPLAIN that you were uncomfortable? Honey, that’s not being a Princess. That’s being a diva bitch.

They sighed: "This leadeth to captivity-- Perchance destruction, ending dark and dire. Yet must we yield to human liberty Its own, e'en though a brand from freedom's fire Kindle for freedom's self the fatal pyre." So saying, they anointed one their king Who craved the crown, by patriot son and sire Put by in pure denial, lest it bring First care, then crime, and waken woes then slumbering. For though a king see duty's pathway plain, And walk therein, as he who now arose; What monarch from misrule can all refrain, When privilege lifts power o'er friends and foes? Rare is the reign untarnished to the close, And rarer still the blameless dynasty. Ofttimes as princes the unkingliest pose, Because, forsooth, they come of some tall tree, Whose root and trunk were sound, while branches blasted be. True kingliness--what else proves man a king? A slave, though throned and sceptered, bides a slave; Nor pride, nor pelf, nor all that power may bring, Can make the serf a sovereign, or yet save The dust of either from the common grave. Royal the soul must be, or comes to end All royalty. Spirit, then blood, God gave; And each at last its separate way doth wend Home to the parent source, to meet no more, nor blend.

JESUS IN THE FOUR COLORS OF THE TABERNACLE What were the colors that God chose for the Tabernacle in Exodus 25-40? There were FOUR! 1. PURPLE looks forward to Matthew, because Purple is the color of royalty, and Matthew presents Jesus as God coming as the perfect King of the Jews. 2. SCARLET looks forward to Mark, because Scarlet is the color of blood which is the color of sacrifice which is the ultimate expression of servant hood and Mark presents Jesus as God coming as the perfect sacrificial servant; 3. WHITE looks forward to Luke, because White is the color of perfection, and Luke presents Jesus as God coming in the form of the Perfect man Christ Jesus; 4. BLUE looks forward to John, because Blue is the color of Heaven, and John presents Jesus as God the Son come down to Earth!

Billy sipped the last of his coffee from the mug and shut down his laptop. 1,000 words wasn’t great but it also wasn’t as bad as no words at all. It hadn’t exactly been a great couple of years and the royalties from his first few books were only going to hold out so much longer. Even if he didn’t have anything else to worry about there was always Sara to consider. Sara with her big blue eyes so like her mother’s. He sat for a moment longer thinking about his daughter and all they’d been through since Wendy had passed. Then he picked up his mug with a long sigh and carried it to the kitchen to rinse it in the sink. When he came back into his little living room and the quiet of 1 AM he wasn’t surprised to find her there over to the side of the bookshelf hovering close to the floor just beyond the couch. Wendy. Her eyes were cold and intense in death, angry and spiteful in a way he’d never seen them when she was alive. What once had been beautiful was now a horror and a threat, one that he’d known far too well in the years since she’d died. He and Sara both. He stood where he was looking at her as she glared up at him. Part of her smaller vantage point was caused by kneeling next to the shelf but he knew from the many times she’d walked or run through a room that death had also reduced her, made her no higher than 4 or 4 and half feet when she’d been 6 in life. She was like a child trapped there on the cusp between youth and coming adulthood. Crushed and broken down into a husk, an entity with no more love for them than a snake. Familiar tears stung his eyes but he blinked them away letting his anger and frustration rise in place of his grief. “Fuck you! What right do you have to be here? Why won’t you let Sara and I be? We loved you! We still love you!” She doesn’t respond, she never does. It’s as if she used up all of her words before she died and now all that’s left is the pain and the anger of her death. The empty lack of true life in her eyes leaves him cold. He doesn’t say anything else to her. It’s all a waste and he knows it. She frightens him as much as she makes him angry. Spite lives in every corner of her body and he’s reached his limit on how long he can see this perversion, this nightmare of what once meant so much to him. He walks past the bookshelf and through the doorway there. He and Sara’s rooms are up above. With an effort he resists the urge to look back down the hall to see if she’s followed. He refuses to treat his wife like a boogeyman no matter how much she has come to fit that mold. He can feel her eyes burning into him from somewhere back at the edge of the living room. The sensation leaves a cold trail of fear up his back as he walks the last four feet to the stairs and then up. He can hear her feet rush across the floor behind him and the rustle of fabric as she darts up the stairs after him. His pulse and his feet speed up as she grows closer but he’s never as fast as she is. Soon she slips up the steps under his foot shoving him aside as she crawls on her hands and feet through his legs and up the last few stairs above. As she passes through his legs, her presence never more clear than when it’s shoving right against him, he smells the clean and medicinal smells of the operating room and the cloying stench of blood. For a moment he’s back in that room with her, listening to her grunt and keen as she works so hard at pushing Sara into the world and then he’s back looking up at her as she slowly considers the landing and where to go from there. His voice is a whisper, one that pleads. “Wendy?

This whole "blue blood" thing is gross and disgusting. The Royals are the original "supremacists" in believing themselves to be apart and above others.

Set your mind for victory You may not realize it, but that’s setting the tone for defeat, for failure, for a lousy day. The first thing you should do is get your mind going in the right direction. This is why many people don’t have enough energy, joy, vision, or passion. Their minds are set on the negative. It’s been that way so long they don’t know any better. It’s normal to them. They go through the day expecting problems, bad breaks, to barely get by, and to be mistreated. They live by Murphy’s Law, which says, “If anything can go wrong, it will, and at the worst possible time. Things will take longer than you thought. It will be more difficult than it seems.” Because these people haven’t set their minds, they expect negative things to happen. They wonder why they have such a tough time, and why they can’t get ahead. It’s because they’re setting their minds for defeat, for bad breaks, for failure. If you have fallen into that negative mind-set, you’ve got to change your outlook. You are a child of the most high God. You’ve been crowned with favor. You were never created to live an average, get-by, short-end-of-the-stick life. You were created to be the head and not the tail, to lend and not borrow, to reign in life as a king. You have royalty in your blood. Winning is in your DNA. Now get rid of that negative mentality, and set your mind for victory. Set your mind for increase. Set your mind for good breaks. Start expecting your plans to work out. Expect people to be good to you. Expect to have a productive day. If it doesn’t happen, don’t fall back into that old negative mentality by thinking things like: “I should have known it would not work out for me. I never get good breaks. I never find a good parking spot. These people never treat me right. It always takes me longer than anyone else.

Another tabloid jumped into the fray with this jaw-dropper: Harry to marry into gangster royalty? My face froze. My blood stopped. I was angry, but more: ashamed. My Mother Country? Doing this? To her? To us? Really?

WHENEVER we review the events of our lives apart from the blood of Jesus, we subject ourselves to the influence of the spirit of deception. In reality, my sinful past no longer exists. The Lamb of God purchased it with a payment in blood, forever removing my sins from the records of Heaven. The atoning blood of Jesus covers my sin, never to be uncovered again. Sin’s power to destroy us is itself destroyed by a superior reality: forgiveness.

Beyond blood and border begins human life, beyond curves and clothes begins character.

Yet while Bryce would inherit barely enough power to do cool party tricks, Danika was expected to claim a sea of power that would put her ranking far past Sabine’s—likely equal to that of Fae royalty, maybe even beyond the Autumn King himself.

He’s not happy with the new bartender. He thinks there are not enough bottles of the blood the count is said to prefer, according to an interview in American Vampire.” I tried to imagine Vlad Tepes, impaler of so many of his own countrymen, chatting with a reporter. I sure wouldn’t want to be the one holding the pad and pencil. “What brand would that be?” I scrambled to catch up with the conversation. “The Prince of Darkness is said to prefer Royalty.” “Ew.” Why was I not surprised? Royalty was a very, very rare bottled blood. I’d thought the brand was only a rumor until now. Royalty consisted of part synthetic blood and part real blood—the blood of, you guessed it, people of title. Before you go thinking of enterprising vamps ambushing that cute Prince William, let me reassure you. There were plenty of minor royals in Europe who were glad to give blood for an astronomical sum.

Blue Blood & Blue Collar (The Sonnet) I have nothing against blue blood, any more than I'm against blue collar. But blue blood think honor is an heirloom, while blue collar earn their rightful honor. That's what I call true human character, unreliant on some fictitious identity. Every human must earn their admittance, into the civilized realm of humanity. I can still accept any blood, blue or otherwise, if they have the decency to acknowledge atrocity. Otherwise, all blue blood are canine incarnate, unworthy of acknowledgment of their existentiality. King and president, ceo and janitor, all are equal, only behavior merits honor.

Oh, honest Americans, as Christians hear me for my down-trodden people! Their form of government is as dear to them as yours is precious to you. Quite as warmly as you love your country, so they love theirs...It is for them that I would give the last drop of my blood; it is for them that I would spend, nay, am spending, everything belonging to me. Will it be in vain? It is for the American people and their representatives in Congress to answer these questions. As they deal with me and my people, kindly, generously, and justly, so may the Great Ruler of all nations deal with the grand and glorious nation of the United States of America. Queen Lili'uokalani, 1896

The high priest’s white linen undergarments represent righteousness.” It was a righteousness not encountered in pagan high priests that were often naked or half-naked in a display of savage uncleanness. He continued, “His robe is a seamless blue garment trimmed with multicolored pomegranates and golden bells to symbolize the fruitfulness and call to worship.” Over the robe, Eleazer wore the ephod, an apron. “The ephod,” said Caleb, “is made of golden wire and blue, purple, and scarlet thread; representing heaven, royalty and blood respectively.

He sighed in a way that indicated he was seeking patience and he replied, “No, Cora. They know you’re a Hawthorne.” He pulled back on the reins, Salem stopped but I felt my brows draw together. “What does that mean?” I asked but he didn’t answer. He swung his leg around, dismounted with practiced ease then his hands spanned my waist and he pulled me down and set me between him and Salem. Close between him and Salem. He tipped his chin down, caught my eyes in the bright lights of the gaily lit lanterns and muttered, “Right, your game.” My previously light heart sunk like a rock. I wasn’t convincing him. Damn. “Tor,” I whispered but said no more when his big hand came up and curled warm around my neck. “It means, love, that you’re mine and what’s mine is part of me and I’m royalty.” My body jolted and my voice was a muted shriek when I cried, “What?” “Quiet,” he clipped, not releasing my eyes. I got up to my toes and whispered, “You’re royalty?” “Yes.” “Royalty,” I repeated, just to confirm. “Yes,” he forced out through his teeth. “Honest to God, blue-blood royalty?” I kept at it, not taking it in. His brows shot together as he replied, “Gods, woman, my blood’s red just like yours.” “You

He warned other kings that military conquest, the glory of victory, and the trappings of royalty were fleeting.

Nobility of blood is nobility of the jungle, modern nobility involves substance of character.

Haven't you people ever heard of the Geneva Conventions?" "You're royalty, darling," she says in the dismissive tone she always uses when I complain. "The Geneva Conventions don't apply.

It's a people's world, and people are to be the rulers, not some filthy, entitled, blue blooded nimrods.

The blood that runs in my veins is pure mob royalty. I am Phoenix Kovalyov, son of Artem and Esme Kovalyov, the reigning king and queen of the Los Angeles-based Kovalyov Bratva. Nephew to Cillian and Kian O’Sullivan, dons of Ireland’s O’Sullivan mafia clan.

Where Storms Nest by Stewart Stafford Time's arrow has left its quiver, And mortal men denied a sliver, Of sweet-faced solace or settled debt, Surrendering all to sweeping death. Beware the vixen with the perished pup, Of merciless slight and sacrilegious sup, Of mother's milk and witches' brew, Curdling infamy and death's-head stew. The trap is sprung, the rider unseated, A mourning procession for the defeated, A great wrong sits on the anointed throne, She is Queen Bee and you, but a drone. From a spider's web veil, she does regard, Hateful glances from black heart's shard, Envenomed nature of poisonous Man, The scorpion's strike of a foul plan. After seeking power and blood and lust, Remorse a late guest to a dagger's thrust, The vulture shrieks to the globe's outer rim, That Man's ambition is a Hell to him. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

Something cold and oily clanged through her. Marriage to a foreign king or prince or emperor. Would this be the cost? Not just in blood shed, but in dreams yielded? To be a princess eternal, but never a queen? To fight with not just magic, but the other power in her blood: royalty.

Her small face was serenity and splendor, half smiling, full of secrets. It is the blood, true royalty. Perhaps we recognized that feature in each other.

One does not ask if one likes the Blood Royal. They simply are. It is like asking if one likes the Gods.

Moronation Street (Sonnet 1013) Nationalism is modern cannibalism, As such nationalism is terrorism. Royalty is an act of crime, Obsessive Bloodline Disorder is clinical barbarism. Character and excellence are the measure of life, Not some cavemen constructs of blood and borders. When the I disappears and the world appears, That's when the animal disappears and the human appears. Fundamentalism is the antithesis of religion, For religion oughta bring inclusion not division. Nationalism is the desecration of a nation's humane identity, Each nation's security is predicated on collective ascension. Enough with the coronation of morons - enough with moronation! Beyond blood and border await the streets of civilization.

There sat his sister-in-law with her smooth, macramé, onyx hair, a cigarette clasped delicately between her long, elegant fingers. Her hair was dark not as dark as her eyes looking at the windows of the man standing in front of her was not worth the time and gaze. Her bright red lips were parted slightly to reveal her perfectly straight teeth except a crooked one of the bottom but one to not gaze deeply was not one to tell. Were her lips as red as blood or did they seem so against the snow of his skin? She was dressed in all black sitting cross legged, her right over the left and her cheeks were hollowed accentuating her delicate cheekbones. Despite the conjecture that she had hair that did not look the silkiest and her garb was giving a presumption of ragged ancestry, her general stillness of power, and disdain of sentiments coupled with the wine, cigarettes and the leather eclipsed her unruly appearance making the lady look like blasé royalty.

It is difficult, charming ladies, for us to know what is truly in our best interest. For, as we have frequently observed, there are many who have thought that if only they were rich, they would be able to lead secure, trouble-free lives, and they have not just prayed to God for wealth, but have made every effort to acquire it, sparing themselves neither effort nor danger in the process. However, no sooner did they succeed than the prospect of a substantial legacy led to their being murdered by people who would never have considered harming them before then. Others have risen from low estate to the heights of power, passing through the dangers of a thousand battles and shedding the blood of their brothers and friends to get there, all because of their belief that to rule was felicity itself. And yet, as they could have seen and heard for themselves, it was a felicity fraught with endless cares and fears, and when it cost them their lives, they finally realized that at the tables of royalty chalices may contain poison, even though they are made of gold. Again, there have been many who have ardently yearned for physical strength and beauty, while others have sought bodily ornaments with equal passion, only to discover that the things they unwisely desired were the cause of misery or even death. But to avoid reviewing every conceivable human desire, let me simply affirm that no person alive can choose any one of them in complete confidence that it will remain immune from the vicissitudes of Fortune.

Monarchy Sonnet Bloodline doesn't determine destiny, Only determination can do that. Biology doesn't see royalty, Only bugs without backbone do that. They say above the law is nobody, Yet the royalty makes their own law. If this is what civilization is about, It's much better to be an outlaw. The very existence of monarchy, Is a sign of a medieval society. We deny visa to hopes and ambition, Yet kings and queens receive undeniable loyalty. So I address the monarchs of planet earth, Grow up and give your character a real birth.

A throne won in blood will soon be drenched in it.

I believe he wouldn’t hurt me, I know he wouldn’t. But what of others? He has so many special gifts, so much power. The opportunity to misuse such a talent is tremendous.” Father Hummer pushed open the door to his cottage and waved her inside. “Do you actually believe that’s what he did? He’s their leader by blood. The lineage goes back far in time. He is called their prince, although he would never admit it to you. They look to him for leadership and guidance, just as my congregation often comes to me.” Raven needed something to do, so she built a fire in the stone fireplace while the priest brewed a cup of herbal tea. She knew he was Mikhail’s friend, and probably knew more about his mysterious life than she did, but she was reluctant to risk giving out information that might later endanger Mikhail. No matter how conflicted she was, Raven felt the need to protect him. “He’s really a prince?” For some reason that dismayed her. On top of everything else, she was contemplating a commitment to royalty. Those things never worked out.

NAOMI, THE GODDESS OF OASIS It was a cool evening when destiny called, Naomi. The call that will revive the hearts of the children of men. Destiny presented herself like a Rose. With thorns that makes the crown. Destiny is beautiful. An enigma of peace that ponder the hearts of men. She adores herself with the blood of motherhood. Smiling in tears and with care she nurtures every soul. She's nature's friend, the waters that pushes with the wind and moves in path with her lings. Her nature is beauty and her songs nourishes the soul of men. Her light illuminates their Hope's and tears are wiped with her smiles. Oh daughter of the great land of Ozoro, the pride of her mother land. The rainbow rose that illuminates the garden of doubts. May your voice sends peace to the wailing hearts. May your day never grow dark on the mornings and may your evening be the time your waistline is with tiring and your love round about you. Great daughter of the forest kingdom. Enigma of royalty. Pride of her love. Queen of the Desert Kingdom. Goddess of Oasis Poem by Victor Vote to Atabeh Rezi. ©️2021 by VVF

I have royalty in my blood as a black woman.