A Tale of Two Kings

A Tale of Two Kings

Written by Zbigniew Żbikowski

Two kings before the temple's sacred gate,
With precious gifts to contemplate their fate,
Upon the altar laid their treasures down,
To plead for favor on that hallowed ground.
For on this day, the listening heavens heard,
And one true prayer would be a binding word,
If from the soul the heartfelt plea took flight,
As pure and certain as the morning's light.

"Grant me the wealth of heaven's endless store!"
The first king cried, a proud and haughty roar.
"I ask for wisdom, Lord, and that alone,
That I may walk the path that you have shown.
I seek this gift to bring me close to Thee,"
The second king then prayed in humility.

A holy priest then stepped before the two,
And said, "The god has heard the plea from you.
Your heart's desire is now within your hand,
But how you grasp it, you must understand."

The king who prayed for riches took his throne,
And to his subjects made his edict known:
"By heaven's will, a right to me is given,
To claim my portion of the wealth of heaven!
So heed my words! This order I decree:
Your sweat and toil belong by right to me.

A tax on healing, on the doctor's bill,
A tax for homes you build upon a hill.
A tax on journeys, on the roads you tread,
A tax on mourning for your honored dead.
Whoever dares to speak against my laws,
Will feel my taxman's unforgiving claws.
My word is iron, let my will be done!
Beneath the gaze of the all-seeing sun!"

The royal coffers soon were filled to burst,
But this first harvest also was the last.
The people learned to hide what they had earned,
And worked in shadows as their anger burned.
The kingdom withered, gripped by fear and blight,
And so the king unleashed his wrongful might.
He formed a guard, a force of cruel design,
To hunt for wealth and call the treasure "mine."

They'd seize a man for nothing but a glance,
And send him to the dungeon with no chance.
A maker of accounts, a man of faith,
Sought to aid schools and spare them from the state's
Cruel wrath; he shipped his goods to foreign lands,
Then brought them back with charitable hands,
To help the children, breaking no true law.
But a greedy guard, who found a legal flaw,
Declared this act a treason to the crown,
And in the name of justice, struck him down.

For what is goodness? What is noble grace?
When there's a fleeting profit one can chase.
And so the people, crushed beneath the boot,
Proved that their greedy king was but a brute.

The king who wished for wisdom as his guide,
Stood with his people, walking side-by-side.
"My friends," he said, with warmth in every word,
"A truth this morning in my spirit stirred.
A state finds wealth not in the gold it holds,
But in the spirit that its folk unfolds.
A kingdom thrives when all its people do,
So let us build a world both just and true.
If you should find a law is built on sand,
Then speak your truth and help me understand.
For I will listen to my people's plea."
And saying this, he joined their company.

He called the weaver, farmer, and the smith,
To build a council, not a whispered myth.
He broke the bread with those who tilled the soil,
And shared the burden of their daily toil.
The years went on, a slow but steady stream,
Fulfilling each king's deeply cherished dream.

The greedy king, whose rule was built on dread,
Was cast from power, from his kingdom fled.
For what is wealth, when all you have is hate?
His people's anger sealed his bitter fate.
The wise king's throne grew stronger through the years,
Beloved by subjects who had banished fears.

When foes attacked, his people stood as one,
Their courage shining brighter than the sun.
The land was prosperous, and all could share
In life's rewards, beyond compare.
For in a foolish land, there's only strife,
While in a wise one, there is love and life.

The foolish king saw people toil and weep,
The wise one saw them laugh, and their joy reap.
And seeing this, my own eyes understand,
And so I pray for this, my native land.
I pray for wisdom for my kin and me,
For all my brothers, that we may be free.
May our great nation finally find its peace,
And may true wisdom grant us all release.

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© All rights reserved. Original work by Zbigniew Żbikowski.