Yellow King
The Yellow King
Flies at night
Never looking down
His gift is the moon
Buttery like a cue ball
He follows it round and round
Takes a bite of the evening night
A crumbling journey to the ground
That follows the stars and uses Mars
As a triangle to the earth
The Yellow King is not of this world
Yet gambles with our lives
For he is just a satellite
Revolving around our lives
And when his cycle ends
He falls to the ground
But the cycle begins anew
And he will rule the night
For his life is death
And death is life
That's why he circles the moon
For he is the Yellow King
The King of the night.
Copyright © Stephen Kilmer | Year Posted 2014
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