Kingship

Everything happens for a reason, it gives way to another thing happening, there's no such thing as chaos or uncertainty, it all happens - slowly, silently, behind our backs, we are unaware of the consequences yet we want to be prepared for the worse, we know that we cannot prevent it yet we sharpen our swords, fuel our tanks and keep the jets flying in the air, and when the time does come, we are never ready enough.
               
The fear of the unknown has drowned empires with it, cities lost up till now that are not yet discovered, some under the sea while others in the very earth we walk over. Flesh, blood and bone is no match to what the future holds, yet we claim to be kings and conquerors. The power of a single man can free a thousand of souls from their bodies if the king is tyrant and can give a thousand bodies, souls if the king is just and kind. Kings - oh yes, they have ruled our world from centuries. What makes them the rulers? What do they have that a subject or a common man cannot have? Some are born kings but some find their ways into the palace through streets or even through the courts where plots and deceptions are given birth. One man's death is another man's life, and another man's life is some other man's reason to scheme for the life just snatched. A trade - between life and death, soul and body, loyalty and treason and between a Throne and a Tombstone!

Greed has always poisoned man's soul, it has made him do acts against his principles, his dignity, his honor and even his life. The hope of a better tomorrow kills us, makes us think we are almost there while we are going away from everything that we hold dear, hope; where gives a man life can snatch the very things he once loved, it's a light far away in a tunnel, you can walk to it as long and as much you want to, you'll always see this light far away from you. And while going towards it, you breath poison at every step you advance - Oxygen. Yes, it gets a man old, makes him forget, forget all the ills he has done while he was a young boy but time remembers everything, it is a never ending log that records everything and when the right time approaches, it confronts you with YOU; the unknown you have been preparing for all this time while you were the only creator of it. Being a king, is knowing how to create the unknown, how to control it, how to confront it and how to make it easy on yourself by the time when you will have no strength in your bones left, the muscles of your heart would be weary and you eyes dim and lifeless, wrinkles would be your only beauty you could claim and when your body trembles and creaks. The air a man breathe can do him this good, it can take him this long but the destiny of man is chosen by himself, his monsters and his allies are his choice.

Life allows you to take different paths; and these paths leads to nowhere but to a man's unknown fear. Very few "kings" can understand this, they know how this game is played, they know how to plot and scheme in the courts, how to manipulate, create and tackle their future selves. A sword needs a bearer and a bearer needs the Right, the Will and the Skill to wield a sword - so, a sword needs less than what a bearer needs. A sword can only then protect a man when the sword's needs are fulfilled otherwise a sword is not any less or any more than an ordinary steel - like an anchor to a ship.

Time; as history knows is the true king, the true conqueror of all men, when it goes by it is felt by none but it has a trick it holds secret, and the trick it does is when it slows down on a man - kills him slow and steady, his cries are useless, his struggles carry no weight, his breathes are deep and cold, almost as if "time" is laughing at him and watching him when he wears his strength out and his heart dries out of blood and turns into a dark mass of rotten flesh. Soon his memories begins to fade away, his words forgotten, his image erased, his life; as if never existed on this God's green earth, what left of him is nothing, it is the only mass on earth that can be destroyed and never created again. Everything ends, the lands, the oceans, the rivers, the beauty, the wars, the darkness, the little moments that a man holds dear. What never ends is the sword that he once wielded! The sword remembers it's bearer, it remembers the lessons learnt on it while he used to practice over it, yes; the sword remembers it's kings, the shields it went through, the skulls it cracked open, the taste of fresh blood and the zeal and courage over the battlefield, it remembers everything. Sharpen his sword for the battlefield a king should, for this is his only memento to tell the world that there lived a king who was the ruler of goodwill, an inventor of his unknown fears and who was not a slave to greed, hate and lived his life running from his unknown, he was a king of kings, the only true bearer of the sword he forged with his very own hands - it's handle made of honor and dignity that connects the man and the sword, it's steel forged with gentleness, kindness and love to take heads of the tyrant and the unloved, it's scabbard; the time and the king - the conqueror of time!

Be that King!