No King of Mine
In these winter days
the king of the north wind
wakes up early to sling his stinging breath
across the ground and between the buildings
of this cold, overburdened city.
we, the peasants of this arctic land
prostrate ourselves before this polar lord
in hope of a merciful breeze.
but this is a murderous king.
one who takes no life into consideration.
one whose armies of currents
burrow their ways into the bodies of strong men
and leave them helpless and immobile.
I say we must facilitate rebellion,
and deny the north wind his pleasure!
let him blow!
let him do his worst!
I will stand strong against Boreas!
stare him down as he struggles
to render me into a pile of ice and snow!
my head will not bow,
and my heart will not waver!
A king is only as strong as his men allow him to be
and we, his men and women
will not follow a king
who will allow us to look him in the eye
with the flames of rebellion melting his icy grasp!
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