He stands at the top of the hill looking down at us,
He raises his arm to point at someone below.
“You there,” he says, his voice a bitter, acid note.
No one wants to be the one selected by his gesture,
But with enough time he will get to each of us.
Sturdy on the foundations of Woe and Catastrophe,
Safe in Despair, there is none who can usurp this king.
The sun rises higher than the horizon,
Higher than any hill, and higher than any mountain.
All things are beneath it, even mighty kings.
Its golden rays shimmer down to steel us,
Feeding us with the warmth of its fire.
We grow like weeds in an abandoned field,
Until we can rise up and tangle the legs of the king.
The pillars of Woe and Catastrophe are toppled.
He is pulled down by our collective strength.
With enough time the situation will reverse,
We will ascend to the summit, the king will go below.
About the Creator
attilan AO
I am a poet, writer, and artist. I often write about neurodivergence, humanity, and sometimes just for fun. I hope to write something that others can find enjoyable.
Keep reading
More stories from attilan AO and writers in Poets and other communities.
Blessed 33
So I woke up on the morning of February 5, 2026 and guess what and you know what I realized? It’s my 33rd birthday. Do you know what that means? Yes, technically I’m getting old, but what I couldn’t have guessed was this would be one of the best days of my life.
By Joe Patterson2 days ago in Confessions
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.