The Magical Song of a King’s Rage and Greed

By Kunal Grover

“A hundred years ago in the East,

There ruled a King in Tibet and the peasants weren’t pleased.

The peasants wiped off with their wealth started riots,

The King looted and only cared about his treasure.

The riots led to burning the kingdom’s food and crops,

The king slashed the necks of the traitors and laid many corpse.

Tibet saw tremendous sufferings,

While the King kept snatching their gold and diamond rings.

One fine evening, the King went to his castle’s basement,

Found a mirror and fell for its shine, not knowing it was enchanted.

The lust of its shine made him place his finger on its reflecting surface,

In a blink, his life was destroyed and burned like in a smith’s furnace.

He found himself in another realm,

The enchantment played its part leaving him with little help.

The wind howled calling unworldly creatures from the dead,

The ghouls were attracted to his unworldly blood’s scent.

The King screamed to the vast sky,

A hand grabbed him and he was prepared to die.

The hand was of an old priest,

Who sighed knowing his fate was seized.

Seized and now in the hands of the gods’ mercy,

The King didn’t pray in ego and for shiny lust, was still thirsty.

The priest showed him the path to his new life and acceptance,

All the King wanted was his treasury back and from this dark world, get riddance.

The priest teaching him the holy lessons to survive in this realm tried to convince,

The King could only feel happiness in looting his peasants and was very conniving.

The King drunk in greed and lust, lost his temper,

The priest prayed to Ares to spare him for his blunder.

The King burned the forest and in the holy river of Aphrodite, spat,

Ares, the God of War, showed his godly rage to end this greedy brat.

Lightning and thunder in the sky began emerging,

The priest knew that on the King, a deadly bolt will be striking.

Protector of mankind, the priest had no choice but to take a dangerous path,

He presented the greedy King with the last unsaid resort.

The priest warned him that the last resort is nothing but a fifty-fifty chance,

Either the King’s prayers will be heard and sent back, or presumed dead by the falling dark.

The King laughed and jumped into the holy river taking the last resort,

But his ego didn’t let him pray to the gods and his mercy from them were unasked.

The lightning and forces grew stronger and the rage of the water raced to his chest,

By the time it was dark and the lightning stopped, the priest grieved as the king was now dead.

The priest chanted his Greek prayers,

While the body kept flowing forever in Aphrodite’s tears!”

By Kunal Grover