What the Dead King Wrought

Iron, Silver
Leather and Bronze

Rings and Pewter
Arrows and Sword

Passion for War
Revealed in Bones.

A robed one strode
Into the field

Calling with
Strident words,


Escape, Dear King;
This Painful Grave.

An Enemy
Is About.

The town prepares
To fight the land

The land gives up
Sorrow to sup.

Blood and anger
Poison the air.

Grief and Hatred
Change to Death's heir.

Your wand'ring day
Must end this morn

Ancient and new
Desire you here.

A skeleton
rising heavy

With an awful
Dreadful sneer

Dreams made sour
Rage brought near

Now stretches forth
From whitened soil

A murdering
Rod made of steel

The air rains foul
From old time weal

"The pow'r within
That you begin

Must climb the Tree
That all worlds be.

Evil and Pain
Driving your hate

I'll cleave in two
Without you abate.

I sought power
To rule this world

And learned to rue
All blood I shed

Was mine as well
I found when dead.

Lone pain is death
Announce with joy

That mark which you
bear:  before I fly.

"More for myself
I tried to bring

A narrow shelf
Is cast this spring."

The King now knew,
Her greed for rule

Brought a fever
And made slaughter.

Her mastery
Dying quickly

She stirred ashes
And cast wishes.

Off'ring herself
To the roast fishes.