The Monkey-King

A monkey climbed to the top of a hill,

Under a stormy, raging sky.

Thunder cracked and the wind howled,

But the monkey persevered.

At the summit, he took a look around,

At everything below him,

He saw he was all alone.

"What is this that I have been made higher than the rest?"

In celebration he stood on his two legs,

With his arms he beat his chest.

"I am king of everyone and everything,

For I am way up high!

No one else could face a storm!

No one could look lightning in the eye!

Save me, that is, who stands on top the hill!"

As the monkey sang and chirped,

He failed to take heed of the rain,

That started to fall down,

The moment he had called himself 'king.'

Tiny droplets small in size but great in number,

Began to soak the ground.

They turned that hill from stone to mud,

It collapsed beneath its weight.

The monkey-king did his very best to stay above,

But the rain and mud grabbed him by his legs,

And threw him to the ground.

It mixed him with the flood waters,

That surged down the hillside.

That was how the monkey-king was drowned.

Later, when the sun came up,

A group of lowly worms came by,

They found the monkey-king,

Now just a snack for them.

"Oh, foolish monkey," they cried,

"You thought you were the king of things below,

But now we're the ones who sing.

Why did you think you were apart from us?

The same laws that make us crawl through the dirt,

Are the same that gave birds wings,

The same laws that let you climb so high,

Are the same that got you hurt.

We'll sing this little dirge for you,

And then we'll obey those same laws, too,

When we go to devour you!"