Looking into the sunset,
Watching the leaves sway
In the dying light,
Her shoulders slump in
Tired agony,
And defeat weighs down
On her heart like a stone,
And she looks up into
The sun,
The ever present sun,
Forever immortal, but forever
Ephemeral sun,
And she feels her strength
Die with the dying immortal
Light,
And she wonders why
She was chosen,
She thinks about who she
Could have been, and
How she could have been
Strong, a lioness,
A predator who would
Sink her claws into
Her prey, into her
Challengers,
But she is not,
She stares across the
Desert, and listens to
The wails of her ancestors,
As they moan their fury
Of defeat,
At the fall of
Their legacy

And she offers up her pain
As payment for advice,
Drawing on their legacies,
Wishing she had their strength,
Their might,
She offered this, her innermost
Fright, that she was not
Worthy enough and she was not
The leader she could have been,
And all the pharaohs before her
Breathe their answer to her,
Violently screaming their forever
Silenced advice through their
Tombs in the afterlife,
And they breathe the wind,
And bid it to give her what
She needs,
To reverse the sands of time
And show her what they
Know is true,
And the wind runs under
The feet of the weeping people,
And past the reposing army of
Gold and red whose commander,
Whose leader is the one
Bequeathed with the name August,
Who found “Rome built of bricks,
And left her clothed in
Marble,” the tiger by the name
Octavian,
And the wind ran, ran, ran
To her whose shoulders
Slumped in defeat

And gave her the memory
Of days long past,
And she breathed in the
Familiar scent of the
Silver wind touched by
The last rays of the
Immortal, ephemeral sun,
And the sands of time reverse
For a moment,
And she is a girl again,
And she remembers,
The girl stares at the sun,
At the edge of a precipice,
She has just realized that she
Was chosen,
And she offers the wind what
Her dearest desire is,
And the wind, the timeless wind,
Listens and cherishes her wish
To inspire a rebellion and
To spark a flame…
The girl looks past the
Sands of her home,
And hopes that one day
She will join the pharaohs
Of the past, and equal
Them in magnificence,
“I want to be a
Hero, I want to be a
Legend, I want my
Voice to echo across
Time and inspire others
In times of despair.”

“I want to be something,
I don’t want to be
Covered by sand,
But instead want my
Mortal body immortalized,
I want to do the impossible,
I want to be pharaoh.”
And the wind hears her
Cry across the years,
And takes her words,
Her words from an innocent time,
Full of dreams, and the wind
Carries back the hope, the
Essence of the girl,
And offers it to the woman
Who is in need of inspiration,
And the wind grants her
Wish, to be an inspiration,
So the woman breathes in
The words she had offered
Long ago, and a flame
Begins to crackle in her
Limp, lifeless limbs, and
Suddenly she is accosted by
The full fury of the wind
And she knows who she
Is, and her shoulders straighten,
Her eyes flash,
The screams of yesterday’s
Battle fully manifesting themselves
To reality,
The woman knows,
The woman remembers who
She wanted to be.

She wanted to be
The perfect storm,
Something fierce to be dreaded,
But she also wanted to
Be the gentle autumn breeze
That ever-so lightly caresses
The ancient leaves,
She wanted to be a fierce
Protector, and she wanted to
Be remembered well by her
People,
And now they needed her,
Because she had wished,
And so she had been chosen,
And now she would unleash
Her whole might on those
That would harm what was
Under her protection,
Because she was looked to
By her people as an immortal
Goddess,
She was the voice that would
Inspire others, starting with herself,
She was timeless,
She was who she had wished
She would be,
A lion,
The last of the greats,
A legend forever timeless,
She was the last of
The pharaohs,
She was Cleopatra,
And the life of the flame of
Rebellion that would dwindle the
Triumph and sap at the strength
Of the soldiers in gold and red.

She was Cleopatra,
Last of the pharaohs,
The impossible legend;
She was an inspiration.

Looking into the sunset,
Watching the leaves sway
In the dying light,
Her shoulders slump in
Tired agony,
And defeat weighs down
On her heart like a stone,
And she looks up into
The sun,
The ever present sun,
Forever immortal, but forever
Ephemeral sun,
And she feels her strength
Die with the dying immortal
Light,
And she wonders why
She was chosen,
She thinks about who she
Could have been, and
How she could have been
Strong, a lion,
A predator who would
Sink her claws into
Her prey, into her
Challengers,
But she is not,
She stares across the
Desert, and listens to
The wails of her ancestors,
As they moan their fury
Of defeat,
At the fall of
Their legacy

And she offers up her pain
As payment for advice,
Drawing on their legacies,
Wishing she had their strength,
Their might,
She offered this, her innermost
Fright, that she was not
Worthy enough and she was not
The leader she could have been,
And all the pharaohs before her
Breathe their answer to her,
Violently screaming their forever
Silenced advice through their
Tombs in the afterlife,
And they breathe the wind,
And bid it to give her what
She needs,
To reverse the sands of time
And show her what they
Know is true,
And the wind runs under
The feet of the weeping people,
And past the reposing army of
Gold and red whose commander,
Whose leader is the one
Bequeathed with the name August,
Who found “Rome built of bricks,
And left her clothed in
Marble,” the tiger by the name
Octavian,
And the wind ran, ran, ran
To her whose shoulders
Slumped in defeat

And gave her the memory
Of days long past,
And she breathed in the
Familiar scent of the
Silver wind touched by
The last rays of the
Immortal, ephemeral sun,
And the sands of time reverse
For a moment,
And she is a girl again,
And she remembers,
The girl stares at the sun,
At the edge of a precipice,
She has just realized that she
Was chosen,
And she offers the wind what
Her dearest desire is,
And the wind, the timeless wind,
Listens and cherishes her wish
To inspire a rebellion and
To spark a flame…
The girl looks past the
Sands of her home,
And hopes that one day
She will join the pharaohs
Of the past, and equal
Them in magnificence,
“I want to be a
Hero, I want to be a
Legend, I want my
Voice to echo across
Time and inspire others
In times of despair.”

“I want to be something,
I don’t want to be
Covered by sand,
But instead want my
Mortal body immortalized,
I want to do the impossible,
I want to be pharaoh.”
And the wind hears her
Cry across the years,
And takes her words,
Her words from an innocent time,
Full of dreams, and the wind
Carries back the hope, the
Essence of the girl,
And offers it to the woman
Who is in need of inspiration,
And the wind grants her
Wish, to be an inspiration,
So the woman breathes in
The words she had offered
Long ago, and a flame
Begins to crackle in her
Limp, lifeless limbs, and
Suddenly she is accosted by
The full fury of the wind
And she knows who she
Is, and her shoulders straighten,
Her eyes flash,
The screams of yesterday’s
Battle fully manifesting themselves
To reality,
The woman knows,
The woman remembers who
She wanted to be.

She wanted to be
The perfect storm,
Something fierce to be dreaded,
But she also wanted to
Be the gentle autumn breeze
That ever-so lightly caresses
The ancient leaves,
She wanted to be a fierce
Protector, and she wanted to
Be remembered well by her
People,
And now they needed her,
Because she had wished,
And so she had been chosen,
And now she would unleash
Her whole might on those
That would harm what was
Under her protection,
Because she was looked to
By her people as an immortal
Goddess,
She was the voice that would
Inspire others, starting with herself,
She was timeless,
She was who she had wished
She would be,
A lion,
The last of the greats,
A legend forever timeless,
She was the last of
The pharaohs,
She was Cleopatra,
And the life of the flame of
Rebellion that would dwindle the
Triumph and sap at the strength
Of the soldiers in gold and red.

She was Cleopatra,
Last of the pharaohs,
The impossible legend;
She was an inspiration.