a king

adapted from the akkadian by horace p sternwall

ilustrations by palomine studios

a mighty army took the field to no opponent did it yield a king rode forth with upraised sword urging on his thundering horde cities fell like windblown flowers nations knew their final hours empires heard, from sea to shore the laughter of the god of war the victor king, whose name is lost his enemies’ last defenses crossed he buried them in burning waves and made their kings and queens his slaves upon the conquered lands laid waste towers and castles he now placed and monuments to his own fame as eternal glory he did claim philosophers rushed to his throne sculptors etched his face in stone artists painted him for the ages scribes with his story filled up pages of all the lackeys at his call the poets had least shame of all and sung and scripted the monarch’s praise in endless verses all his days eventually the great king passed assured his memory would last inscribed in stone, and words, and song in archives vast, and towers strong the years went by, then centuries as swiftly as a summer breeze new kings rose up, to glories new demanding each of fame his due our king was lost beyond time’s mist as history’s unending list of mighty heroes onward scrolled and tales of him no more were told jackals prowled, and pilgrims stumbled through his palaces as they crumbled the ruins fell beneath earth’s crust and all the poems turned to dust