The Twilight of a King Without a Kingdom

In the heart of an endless desert,

Sits alone, on a throne of sand, the fallen king,

Ruler of a kingdom that no longer exists,

Under an empty sky, devoid of stars,

“The twilight of a king without a kingdom”, the echo of his end.

Once shone, proud light among the angels,

But pride dragged him into dark depths,

Now lord of nothing, in a kingdom of desolation,

Where the wind whispers songs of vanished power.

Around him, only sand, a silent witness

Of lost greatness and broken dreams,

Every speck, a reminder of his failure,

Every breath of wind, a lament for what was.

And his followers, once faithful followers in the rebellion,

They abandon the shadow of his madness,

Step by step, towards the light of forgiveness,

Leaving him to contemplate the abyss of his loneliness.

No regrets in his heart in his shadow,

No prayers on his ash lips,

Only silence, faithful companion at sunset,

While the throne of sand slowly dissolves.

“The twilight of a king without a kingdom,” whispers the wind,

A melody that tells of the end of pride,

The fall of those who challenged the sky,

And he found refuge in the eternal night of his dark soul.