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The Mighty King

"A lil bedtime story/poem"
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Published 10 years ago
There was once a king and a mighty king was he,
For he ruled with his might,
and never thought ‘what it might’,
do to all around you could see.

He won wars and waited for revenge,
and settled all scores that needed to be settled,
but one day while he was alone,
he started to think…and think did he,
for what he ‘has done’ and what he ‘could be’.

That day he was filled with remorse,
and morsels didn’t take he,
for he was a king and a mighty king was he.

On and on the days passed and the king became frail,
till one of the knights suggested he go to the priestess who heals.

He had heard about her,
but thought women were too frail,
they could only bear children but otherwise,
were of no avail.

But he listened to the wise knights and went to see,
and told the woman,
she was not the answer to his misery.

The priestess, a little girl, smiled and agreed,
and dismissed the idea that she could heal,
said she while the king was leaving,
‘Help me clean my home,
for I am too frail as you say,
and live alone’.

Mighty as was he,
the king could not say no.
to someone who was so fragile,
and laughed at what his knights had told him,
and could not foresee.
The ‘little priestess’ thought he,
again of no avail,
as he could see.

So the king started cleaning,
the first time in his life did he,
clean with his own hands and did it genuinely.

As the day ended he went to the girl ,
and said, 'I gave you your wish now I must go,
as I have a kingdom to see.'

The little girl smiled and said,
'But it still isn’t as clean as I wish it to be.'

’What?’ said the king and flew into a rage,
'explain yourself or this day is your end,
for I myself will behead you ,
and every drop of your blood will be spent.'

Said she, ’This world is my abode,
and I asked you to clean,
but did you clean what is mine really?'

...'No you didn’t,
for you left the battlefield behind
and left the women weeping with the toys,
and brought down everyone with smiles and doe eyes.’

'And everybody said, 'a mighty king is he’,
but I think how?
How is it that you are a king when you can’t even see?
And I laugh when they say,
'a mighty king is he’.

'For even if you kill me they will hail 'a mighty king is he’,
but it is “HE” who knows ‘mightiest king he can be',
and he settles for less and lets other chant 'a mighty king is he'.'

The mighty king wept and swept her feet with his tears,
and confided in her all his fears,
and promised 'mightiest king he will be'.

And one day he did become ‘the mightiest king’,
and one day even she said,
'So here is to the king I wished to see.'

'We are all your people and are happy for thee,
and yes you are the only mightiest king that shall ever be.'

And so as it was to be far and wide,
Many centuries down,
Tales were told of that king of night,
And how he rose to be the centre of that,
which burns yet forever and ever spreads the light.

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