A King Mourns

Though the soft light of stars are seen,
And the dark sky calm,
A king mourns in solitude,
His grief, let loose.

For beneath so beautiful a sky,
Lay a world tortured and broken.
Shards of broken hearts scattered the battlefields,
The men of many lands, dead as is their hope for victory.

And though leagues of land surround him,
His is the only life for miles around.
For there lay the bodies of his men,
And the corpses of his friends.

They had never had victory within their grasp,
Only hopes of blind fools.
And he, he was the blindest of them all,
For into Hell he had led them.

Tears of despair and sorrow,
They wet the black ground on which he lay.
Woe to his damned soul!
Woe to the day he ever believed he'd destroy the darkness!

And, oh, how he wished the spirits of the dead would curse him!
Curse their belief in him and the hope he had kindled!
But none damned him to the Devil,
And only silence answered his cries.

Then the gleam of metal called him,
A sword, sharp and deadly,
You deserve death! You, traitor of Men!
To the fires of Satan with you! it cried.

With a mad shine to his eyes,
He answered its call.
Silenced its cries for blood and justice,
Silenced it, with his beating heart.

His demons jeered at him,
Look at this King!
See how he lays broken and dying!
He is no King at all, away with him!

His eyes grew black,
And the world slowly enveloped him in darkness.
Visions of the Fair Land he had grown-up in came to him,
And he smiled, a bitter twisted smile of defeat.

At last, he would weep no more.
He had paid his debt for the blood that had spilled,
For his deceit and betrayal,
And finally, for extinguishing the pure light he had loved.

The stars glowed on their thrones in the night sky,
The deep-blue crept to black,
This time there was only a smell of death.
And the fallen King mourned no more.