The King paced his throne whilst in anguish
Prayer and hatred raced through his voice
His knees met the ground
With angry fists he had pound
In the fate of his kingdom, he had never a choice

“My kingdom in danger and my army- most gone…
What could God’s plans be for us?” asked the King.
“My people look for a savior
My Queen begs me to save her
But of miracles, I haven’t such a thing!”

A callous cackle echoed the throne room
Darkness claimed possession of each crease
In the center, a figure
Feeble, and yet limber
with a smile pure of trust and deceit…

© 2013