The King is Dead

The King is Dead





The king is dead. No longer does he decide what is in our benefit. No longer does he instruct us what to do , when do it or how to do it. Such a simple little man, masked in the name of authority as our king.

He woke early every morning and came home late every evening. Tired and hungry. He ate and went to bed late at night.Where was he all day?We needed him here with us. He never had time for us, we need his love but he was never there. He thought his money to sooth our pain or lonely feeling. He was seldom there. The king is dead and now I am the king.

Early in the morning I wake and go. Late in the evening I come home tired and hungry. Early in the morning I long to stay in bed and play with my subjects my beloved subjects. I need them but show my love by being away from them when it would to so easy to spend time with them. I think of them and wonder where they are all day. I pray for there safety as I toil as another's servant. I cry for not being there because I am here toiling for another. I cry because I have to show strength for both them and myself to be a king. I must hide my emotions to be a king but I feel them just the same. Maybe the king was never a king, he was just a father . A man who loved his family and gave up his wants for his family needs .