A Wild Thing of Creation, Caged

The fig tree was our rotunda, the roots valleys leading to our kingdom not fifty feet away a concrete range bridged worlds, and stood silently, sullen our very own mountain of doom fearsome as knights and maids we traversed cement battlements I crossed on the Styx, the other world moved like a slithering mass of parasites ever closing in on our seat of power shimmers of time shivered the river, as the monster of madness split the surface an almighty bellow, ‘get the hell home for dinner’ my brother, a Caesar ruled and was slaughtered by his own, me caged and fed like a wild thing by mine