The Uncrowned King

by Harold Bell Wright

And this was their whisper: "Ask the King."

Really-Is, when he was asked what should be done, answered with a smile: "The Crown is not the kingdom, nor is one King because he wears a Crown."

And the people, when the trumpets made it known that there was no crown and declared the word of Really-Is, with one voice cried loudly: "Really-Is is King! Really-Is needs no Crown! Long live Really-Is, our King!"

Thus the True King ascended the throne of Allthetime, and the trumpeters trumpeted loudly many times: "Long live the king who needs no crown!" and with a great shout the people answered again many times: "Long live our Uncrowned King! Long live our Uncrowned King!"

"And this, O Hadji," said the glad Voice of the New Day, "is how it came to be that in the days that now are, there is, in this Royal City Daybyday, in the wonderful Land of Allthetime, no crown."

And this also you must know, that in the reign of Really-Is the people of Daybyday have more and more turned from their many gods to worship only the god of their King, until there is left now of the many deserted temples only ruins, and of the many gods of the many people of many races, languages and names only one, the god of Really-Is, Things-That-Ought-To-Be. The mighty Wall that was built, they thought, on the foundations of the world, when there was no longer a crown to keep, of its own great weight fell. And the Royal City Daybyday, in the reign of Really-Is, is extending its borders more and more, until there are those who think that with the City Sometime it will soon be one, and then they say that the promises made by Really-Is and the Princess of Yettocome will be fulfilled and that the glory and splendor of their reign will fill the world.

"But of that, O Hadji," said the glad Voice of the New Day, "I cannot tell you now. I have finished The Tale of The Uncrowned King."

The Voice that was in the Morning ceased. The Quiet Room was filled with light. Quickly the Pilgrim arose and going to the window saw in all its glory the New Day.

Every leaf of the tall trees, every blade and every inwoven flower in the velvet carpet of green, wore beads of shining crystal that sparkled and glittered in radiant splendor. Every tiny ripple that ran on the Beautiful Sea was a line of silver flame. And in the overhead ocean of pearly light, floated glowing banks of orange, and scarlet and gold, while, to the Pilgrim, bird and tree and plant and flower and wave and cloud seemed to join in one glad triumphant shout: "Long live Really-Is! Long live The Uncrowned King!"

Then the Pilgrim who had paid The Price, who had fulfilled The Law of the Pilgrimage, who had asked of Thyself, the Keeper of the Temple of Truth, "Why," went to lay his offering on the altar to the god That-Never-Can Change.