How is it that the lanky wind
Blows breath upon my head?
How is it that the tale unfolds,
"The king is dead, the king is dead."
A day upon a useless time
A moment, whence to given wake
Hold into your dearest eyes, in your heart,
The promises made for you to break.
And if the stars's flames go out
And the moon nor sun will shine again
At least in Darkness your voice can heal
And your touch will guard my pain.
Still, still, wind brings me this news
Whispering the thought that I most dread,
This day, the night, this time has told,
"The king is dead, the king is dead."
-K M Radley
Blows breath upon my head?
How is it that the tale unfolds,
"The king is dead, the king is dead."
A day upon a useless time
A moment, whence to given wake
Hold into your dearest eyes, in your heart,
The promises made for you to break.
And if the stars's flames go out
And the moon nor sun will shine again
At least in Darkness your voice can heal
And your touch will guard my pain.
Still, still, wind brings me this news
Whispering the thought that I most dread,
This day, the night, this time has told,
"The king is dead, the king is dead."
-K M Radley
posted by dyingember at 1:44 PM
1 Comments:
This one was inspired from Micheal's play. I realize that his king wasn't dead, really...it made me remember my idea from long ago for a story that never came out.
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