Let's speak of a kingdom that ceases to be
A downfall that passes in time
Through the mouth of our elders
And the lips of our child
The truth buried all the while

The kingdom, a treasure of sight to behold
Its beauty to match none have seen
But if beauty so precious
Was meant to be cherished
Why do stones cry out as they bleed?

The kingdom proved prosperous in the eyes of its people
King and royalty none could refute
But if a stranger conveyed mystery
Could alter just history
Arrived a hooded soul bearing a lute

He played such songs of virulent, reviled memories
Of one who’s pain could not be quenched from misery

The King heard enough of such terrible hymns
And cast sight of this poor soul away
With kindness refused
He promised a tune
That would please every ear that heard play

“Thy kingdom is vast and its subjects enjoyed
But facades are employed nonetheless
A scheme for thy king and a prize for thine queen
Thou subjects shall never protest

A dream in a bottle and a myth in the air
A dagger for each tongue that claims nay
Thy royal folly with intent to unfold
Thine King shall have thy own way

Thy kingdom with no vices shall destroy it all
A kingdom with no reasons has marked its own downfall”

The King yet enraged cast off this charade
And struck his sword, laced with ill-will
“Thy kingdom shall burn,
Thine lesson be learned
You will fight till thy heart is yet still”

Without wasting a single step forward
Without comprising the silence of sound
The hooded soul cackled
With laughter like shackles
His form sank deeper than that of the ground

-End Part 1-

© 2013