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SCENE: A hovel. An old man writing by candlelight. On the table is seen an hour glass whose sand has run out into the bottom.

Shall I no more ride in victory from some distant bloodyd field? I must be quick and silent or crouch with a panthers patience now All movement to deplore for my long lost sovereign spoor. But waitno more of this, no more!

I was a king crowned long ago who did succumb to the ebb and flow Not only of my fate and skill but of the ugly sound of an angry crowd Slow-moving but at last unwound mine no more to command.

I was a King and somewhat willing to allay my thoughts of further killing But I was proud! I did not condescend to listen to their will. I did amend some rules, but still

Beneath my lonely royal cloud I thought I had to kill for my survival! And so we paused for war on my arrival to those fertile fields. There were many shining swords and shields And lances fluttered banners in the glancing sun And bright blood flowed upon the land!

I was a king, but who were they ? The stuff that caused my thrones decay? My god-like stance to bend and sway? Ah no! For like a child I did with great excitement play with little numbered power blocs The which I finally piled into a noisy, tumbling paradox But nowat quiet close of day I think at last I understand

I was a King And unto me my court did fawn But waitno more of this, no more! My kingdoms gone and now I hear of pranks now played by a leader who has often prayed A leader who admits no fear into his jeweld consciousness A man perhaps who cannot hear Without some councils devious aid!

For this I grieve the while these restive people shall receive no benediction from his regal hand.

Ah, no King am I! I poke the ground when Spring comes round. My calloused hands display no fingered rings! My dirty shirt rips at the seams! My pants are cuffed with common clay and horse manure! Yet I shall say that Im not poor! Im still a king! My subject is the horse who pulls my plow! I work harder now, with more concern than I ever did before! And we shall reap the largesse of a destiny I never planned!

I was a King. And through the tangle of the memories of things that make my countrys lore I now perceive a simple thing The food and love that I can bring will make us work for harvest time when he will nicker with delight and I shall sing Octobers plight our sweat doth stink of an honest, seemly smell. My timely death shall ring unknown Its tinkling knell in all my valleys would have boomed

my greatness to proclaim! To form on Historys lips a tale of wisdom in my name had I been truly grown! But waitno more of this, no more! My day is done. My muscles, sore. This life Ive lived shall soon be closed. This glass contained my scepterd time now justly stilled of running sand.

I was a King But happily now Deposed.