It is the source for feathers,
leaves and flies.
In might force, it travels
the skies.
The clouds, they shout, crackle and hide.
They rally their troops,
though in the end, abide.
It is the agent that wrecks,
kills and divides.
Yet in times of despair
one would look to it
to fill their insides
with warmth and comfort
as the trees did swing.
Consider this,
this thing
could be a metaphor for a King.
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