SUN SETTING

vi.

I

tell me of the hunger that raged in the eyes of old kings, as they stood tall against the heavens.

i can't tell you of that. my condolences.

why not?

because the kings of old were gods with mortal crowns and red blood, they stood mighty with the heavens and they reveled in their eternity of power.

then tell me of the frail ones.

they weren't so frail, i'll tell you that. they had a heart so powerful they brought the skies to their knees, only to build alters to the celestials that kneeled in the heavens. their minds were battlefields that sounded steel against steel and yet the nebulous ashes that crafted empires crumbled. and did i tell of their voices? they whispered myths and lore into the eager ears of the youth, waiting for their own tales to be passed down through the eras of time. the frailness you speak of does not exist, no. the mortals were kings who bowed to figures kept alive by their own memory. they were wanderers in search of more to satisfy their wild hearts. they were warriors who brought heaven and hell to ruins and ashes. 

– we speak of gods, but forget the mortals who battled with strength laced in their blood