Tuesday, August 21, 2012

The Pharaoh Reflects

At the age of nine
They made me king

Grand high, something something
I forget the exact title

Virgins were sacrificed
I remember that much

And volcanoes exploded
And the sky rained fire
And the rivers were swollen
With honey and milk

And I thought...

Wow

Just wow, you know?

I was nine

Then, at the age of eighteen
I was dead

That was a life

Eighteen years

It must seem like nothing now
But back then
You could do a lot of living
In eighteen years

It occasionally makes me wonder
What I could have done with more

Eight, eighty, eight hundred more years
And what would I be?

In my dreams, when I dream
Which I do
I don't imagine more of what I already had
I imagine less

Much less

A farm, near the river
A wife with a kind smile
Maybe one of the two daughters I lost
Alive and happy

Nobody looking at me like a king
Or a god

No expectations
No disappointment
No promises that in the next life
Everything will make sense

In my dream, there is no next life
Just a life on Earth
That must be lived
In each separate, passing moment

And when the end comes
It will be the End

And I shall welcome it
Like a friend I've been waiting to meet
All my life

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