An AI Generated Image
The hour of serene exhaustion comes
With the truth that all of your mad striving
Has yielded little profit, and vast sums
Of debt, betrayal and vile conniving
To which you are now invulnerable
Too tired and too wrinkled by wisdom
To weep for things irrecoverable;
No longer keen to rule a vast kingdom
Content instead to call one room your home
One rusty sword your army, and one smile
Love enough to allow you to become
Sovereign of yourself; master of your style
Author of a wild, enchanting story
Conqueror of foolish lust for glory
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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