Uneasy Lies The Head That Wears The Crown. Poem by Ofentse Mercy Hajane

As dusk fast approaches,
Throughout the land of those happy to be lulled into folly.
There  stood, forever gazing like a statue, a man whose years have wrote themselves on his face.
His hands lie on the ruggged stone slab he reckon soon will be his grave.
He's witnessed generations come and go,
He's  seen all horrors of man,
He has also bore witness to their sins, some which he has also perpetuated.
As the sun jumps from the towering mountain that stood as a sentinel.
It's glare met his gaze,
his milky eyes watering the cold ground beneath his naked feet.
He grimaced reveling in memories of his past life.
Time when his youth was upon him.
How quint it was,
He had wonderful dreams,
He had dreamt of a land flourishing with genuine life.
A land whose feats are measured by the accumulation of knowledge and the use thereof.
He had made a grandiose dreams indeed.
That when he finally  slay the beast that has put shackles on his people's hands,   he'll free them unto the light itself.
'Back then..' he whispered to himself,
'... it all seemed possible.'
Through the disheartening years, he had grown weary of those  dreams.
Those he had saved had now turned their backs on him,
Or had taken arrows against him.
He had had to leave them as horrific pile of gore.
For from his tender years, he had learned that dreams fo not build nations,
Only dark deeds could lay a rigid foundation for what greatness may come.