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Risings of the Sun

By
Serenity,
beaming with every rise of the sun.
The colors,
blooming with every turn of seasons,
rising above the pain of this rain,
the cold of this snow,
the drops of moonshine falling below.

Each new sunrise climbs higher and higher,
into the brilliant skies of light.
A new day is dawning, in favor of everyone’s
delight.

It is at each new sunrise where
each new King appears.
A new dawn of glory to behold,
a new shine of bravery and might,
a new era has begun.

“Warriors, bear your arms!”
The King screams fourth,
“Peasants, this time is ours,
this war, this fight, this victory
is ours!”

War up and comes with blood and gore,
people loose their lives fighting for
what they are forced to believe.
Is this really the coming of the king?

Peasants will then stand up
and rethink everything once more…
“Enough,” they claim, “is enough!”
Grab all your weapons and fists you see,
because tonight will be the end of the king.

Overthrow this man, rip him to shreds!
Tear apart his body and soul,
just as you did to those fighting in war.
But perhaps this is something worth fighting for.

Eternity,
glowing with every set of the sun.
The glistening of this melodic tone,
plays out the last events of the past,
of his song.
This king, once born to rule,
once filled with power, hope, nobility.
He’s just as easily shot down with the passing of the seasons.

But what could this be?
A new day is dawning!
New glory to come to understand,
new ways to evolve in command.
A rise of a ruler,
once a peasant; a newfound murderer,
now knows his time starts now.

A new king has risen,
with the coming of the sun;
a new war has begun.





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