Stars Fade (a collection of poetry)

the fool

The wolves howl,
so long as the King rules
with every passing moon.
Let him sit high on the throne,
but the power comes from his crown.

His mind is fissured and cracked.
Worry seeps in like a poison,
unbeknownst the source.
So it darkens and breaks,
the rivers run black.
But the poison also conjures fear.
Given to him from one of his own.

His queen, sickly and pale,
could not harm.
Her heart too pure for even this world.
His general, a master of blades,
loyalty flows through his veins,
for to whom he swore.
The fool, silence a difficulty,
who plays, and jokes at the King's will,
too much a fool to commit such a plan.

A mistake, the King realized,
much too late.
He'd misjudged.
He'd been played.
He'd been made a joke.
For on his last night,
the last sound heard,
was a small bell, and a laugh.

The next moon came.
The wolves did not howl.