As I journeyed through the ruins of Struggage,
There, I met a meticulous sage,
Well sunken and stricken in age,
With “old” eyes aglow with wisdom.
What has become of this hallowed and revered kingdom?
I asked the sage like a Platonian ,
Death, young one, Death! Enthused the sage,
How, wise one? I asked, this time curious.
With lack and deterioration of love, unity and harmony,
Comes the opportunistic foe in symphony,
Like plucked strings harmonizing in sweet rhythm,
He lurks in quietly and lures its prey(s) like a possessed nymph.
Love, the ancient and ageless one,
That holds the cords of the horizons,
Once reigned, flourished and thrived herein,
Then, silently, crept in the cunning one, when,
One citizen no longer saw the other,
As a cherished counterpart, friend or partner,
But as a competitor that needs be vanquished and conquered,
In no time, this act reverberated across the kingdom.
Greed came in, as compassion gave way,
Harmony couldn’t stand the stench of discord and despair,
The “unity power” left town as the “singularity factor” stormed in,
The quest for power and riches made men blood thirsty,
Ushering in the emergence of Leviathan, Death’s trusted enforcer.
Go now! Go, young one,
Proclaim the ordeal and travails of the-once-great Struggage,
To the kingdoms of the world, that yet lives,
Death, the taskmaster of evil thrives where love is dead…