Ode to A Fallen Sovereign

[anirudhb]

Clad in the finest of silks,
A crown glistening atop his head-
Awaiting his say, of a feeble voice,
Standing tall beside the bay,
Stay a once colossal army of dreams;
Standing proud in the windswept plains,
Cherishing memories that will never repeat-
Of wives, children- Of kith and kin,
Of times of benevolence of their glorious city-
Of walking in its dazzling streets,
With heads held high that’ll ne’er do so.
Guarding a city, that’ll ne’er rise again.
Standing in the midst of Zeus and Hera,
The zealous sovereign had lost his zeal,
For as the boorish infidels raze the walls,
Plundering the famed treasures concealed,
Life is but a dream afar
And joy, a dream farther.
As the city was torn apart,
At glory’s glorious zenith,
It’s sovereign kneeling at the foot of God-
A score pried open the holy gates,
And reaching the king, one stab enough,
The sovereign fell, and stab after stab-
As he lay dying, his lips could be read,
His feeble voice fading away,
‘Take all the wealth wanted by thee,
But wealth counts not in gold or silver,
Once, not far from now, not near today,
Repentance shall be thy worst curse…’