The King

The throne fell in his lap at age sixteen
His body was tall, muscular and lean
His head was well shaped even in the teens
His carriage n demeanor bespoke his royal genes

He had an equal measure of solemnity and gaiety
So all his hangers on had to come up with things witty
He did not suffer fools gladly n dismissed them in a jiffy
His royal courts were full of entertainment and sobriety

Once a month he went to the nearby forest for a jaunt
Chasing a sleeping tiger or a lion or even a tiny fawn
The pickings were abundant but often quite scant
But that did not faze him as he took life on a slant

On his next foray he saw an old man seated under an oak
Who did not bow or blink upon seeing his royal cloak
But stroked the bonfire in front with a gentle poke
His highness was mystified at this silent rebuke

He got off his horse and bowed towards the old man
Asking him for words of wisdom with his face wan
The old man said he too was once a king with great élan
But realized its futility as he had no control over his life span

So he gave it all up and sought answers in the jungle
Not worrying a bit about his riches n consequent bungle
Just pondering upon life and its great mystery and the tussle
Between life n death and the struggle to put the mind in a muzzle

It was an uphill and a hard task that he had set upon himself
As the mind was like a slippery eel darting about in the reef
To spike it required an enormous strength of will was his belief
Otherwise one continued struggling haplessly and acquired only grief!

And with these few words he fell back into his silent reverie!

“Once the game is over, the king and the pawn go back into the same box.”–Italian Proverb


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