The Fall
Entrenched roots, digging deep
Grabbing hard, implanted feet
Did lose their grip when set upon
Ripping, breaking, sad defeat.
Scraped and shorn and battle torn
The aftermath of violence.
Lying prone on the earthen floor
The mighty king has fallen.
Golden scarlet flows beneath
Once his crowning glory
Grand and proud-now struck down
No one lives to tell his story.
Limbs askew, digits crumbled
What weapon came against him?
God’s great breath did cause his death
Oh how the mighty tumble.
In this shallow grave does lie
The monarch of the trees
Divested head, dank final bed
Outranked by death. No authority.
Even kings shall fall.
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