There all alone he stood,
On cold hard wood.
Looking at a noose held high,
For, he was about to die.
He had a beautiful wife,
Whom, he loved more than life.
With her he had a child,
Who, was anything but wild.
His ears began to ring,
When he heard the crickets sing.
To them he was, but an insignificant thing,
But, in truth he was ‘The King’.
That, he had failed in his quest,
Tore into him like swords in his chest.
So t’was in the forest,
He had planned his eternal rest.
He then cursed that fateful day,
On that wretched month of May.
When joined the war,
That would now take his life, in this land afar.
All alone, on the branch he stood,
Throughout his travels he had done only good.
With a noose on his head,
Readying the jump that would knock him dead.
He was all but ready to jump,
When saw wee little ants on the stump.
Their little heads, with pride held high,
Working the lines even though the night was nigh.
Looking at the ants marching along,
The King noticed something wrong.
For all the ants were marching loose,
All of them, to bite into his death noose.
He stopped the little ants to ask,
“Why take up this arduous task?”
To which he heard the little ants cry,
“I move my arms, so that you my brother don’t die”
“We work together on this deathly night,
So that you my King will stand up and fight.
I bite into this rope so tight,
So that you my Brother don’t die tonight.”
So taken aback was ‘The King’,
He had to ask the ants but one thing.
“Pray tell me ‘O Brothers’,
How is it to thee I am a ‘Brother’?”
“When God created the sun and the sky,
And, created the mountains so high.
T’was when he breathed life into you and me,
That you became a Brother to me”
From the King’s eyes rolled down the tears,
With which also rolled out all his fears.
For today the wee little ants,
Had taught him, life’s most beautiful chants.
“Life is not yours to take,
Life is yours to make.
Life is not yours to take,
Life is yours to make.”