A forest amidst
a golden city
Forlorn,
for within the free bounds it held.
A lone soul
that had to bide her time.
Around
stood the women who marveled.
Her
composure in her sadness
Graceful, silent,
with unbroken resolute
A lone soul
that had to bide her time.
Melancholy had
numbed the flute.
A rich city
saw a poor man rule it.
Poor he was
not by wealth.
Nor by
education in any measure
Save just
one act of stealth.
Nobility is
not by birth as much.
A man’s
actions speak loud,
Louder than
the whispers of time
Ages after
he is trounced.
Where did his
nobility falter?
A much better
king he was.
Immeasurably
better than his foe
Pious,
committed to his cause.
Brothers
hailed him as the best.
His sons
were in awe.
Progress in
science and medicine
Were
seamlessly scripted by law.
He
conquered all the greatest.
Be they demons
or God.
His valor
knew no bounds.
His brain powering
his sword.
Success
only lasts while it does.
Character holds
the fort.
Pride betrays
all the knowledge.
That humility
holds in port.
When ego
gets the better of man
His
nobility thus withers
Making him
an empty shell
Away the
knowledge slithers
The
education all but laid in vain.
His swords
went blunt.
The throne lost
a maestro,
As the King
turned tyrant
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