I Am the King

I am the King. I wear no crown,

Yet every wind that stirs the down

Of feathered birds or silent trees

Must bow before my roaring seas.

I do not bark—I roar, I reign.

My throne is carved in wind and rain.

The sun itself aligns its rays

To greet my dawn, to bless my days.

I walk not fast, nor walk in fear,

But every hoof and paw draws near.

They whisper odes behind my back—

Yet none dare plan a rebel's track.

The Fox once came with honeyed tongue,

A tale of praise so sweetly sung.

"Dear Lion," said the cunning guest,

"With you, the jungle's truly blessed."

But I have seen the glint of lies

That flicker deep in clever eyes.

I let him speak, then let him go—

No need for claws when truth you know.

The Lamb once trembled at my feet,

A creature soft, and pure, and sweet.

"Will you devour me?" she cried.

I smiled, and let her safely hide.

For power's not in teeth alone—

A king is made of flesh and bone.

Of mercy, too, and patient grace—

Of knowing when to slow the chase.

The Wolf howled deep, a mournful sound,

He envied me, yet kissed the ground.

He gathers packs to echo might,

But strength that feeds on fear takes flight.

He hunts in dark and fears the day,

I bask in sun—my lion way.

I let him howl, I let him mourn—

His envy is a crown of thorns.

The Tiger—ah, my rival flame.

He seeks the throne, he seeks the name.

He leaps in stripes, so full of pride,

But kings don't need a place to hide.

I fought him once beneath the moon—

The stars hummed low a jungle tune.

Yet as we bled, I saw his eyes:

A mirror's truth, a beast that tries.

So I forgave the fire in him,

For what is pride but truth grown dim?

He bowed, I roared—we found our peace.

Two flames that chose the sun’s release.

The Snake, the silent serpent slow,

Whispers what only night may know.

He winds through words, he coils in thought,

He twists the tales the lambs are taught.

But I—oh, I am nature’s verse.

I wear no lies, no wicked curse.

My strength is known in open air,

Where justice breathes and hearts lay bare.

I’ve ruled with fang, and ruled with song,

With silence deep, with wisdom long.

For jungles thrive not under fear,

But when all creatures hold truth dear.

The wind, the trees, the rock, the root—

They do not serve—they bear the fruit.

The bird who sings, the deer who weeps—

All share the throne this Lion keeps.

I am the King. Yet more than that—

I am the soil beneath the mat.

The rain that feeds, the law that binds,

The moral ink in beastly minds.

I love, I spare, I roar, I mourn—

For even kings are nature-born.

Not made of gold or burning stone,

But hearts that beat when all’s alone.

So if you seek a throne to earn,

Then first, from nature’s heart, you learn:

That every crown, and every name,

Is but a flicker in the flame.

And when you rule, let love be king—

Let justice be your offering.

For I am Lion—not by might—

But by the truth I guard each night.