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by Norman
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Folklore · #2243325
And so King Rourk became the man who was to lead us all
The die was cast; the vote was in, with no more to be done.
The counting would determine who had lost and who had won.
So who would lead us from this place? Who will guide us now?
The winter was approaching soon. Could we survive somehow?
The bodies of our comrades have been buried and we mourned,
while those of the attackers left to lie there with our scorn.
The tribe must have a worthy one to take our leader’s role;
that leader had been fearless and has paid the final toll.
So who would be our champion and wear the holy crown?
Who would be the strong one to unite us when we’re down?

Out of this chaos came a man who stood above the rest,
with scars and that showed that he’d survived that recent bloody test.
Rourk raised his hands and asked for calm as he began to speak.
His manner made it obvious that he was far from weak.
He thanked us for our faith in him, for choosing him to lead.
He said that we must all stand firm now in this time of need.
The tribe had come together as we made plans to move on.
The apprehension and the fear we had were quickly gone.
We worked together hand in hand to rebuild what was burned.
Along with sturdy shelters, a new confidence was earned.

And so King Rourk became the man who was to lead us all.
We put out lives into his hands; with him we’d rise or fall.
Some times were rough, we weren’t sure if our tribe would survive,
but he stood fast beside us as we struggled and we strived.
Eventually the weather changed; the land began to thaw.
Our lives became less dire as we recovered from the war.
We plowed our fields and planted seeds to grow our needed food.
That food would bring back strength to us, help elevate our mood.
Not everyone was sure of Rourk; there was some whispered doubt.
But in the end that too was quelled as no one did without.

Yet we could not relax our guard; our weapons were at hand.
We were prepared both day and night to once more take a stand.
We trained ourselves to be alert, to thwart off an attack.
We posted guards around the camp in case our foes came back.
In just a year we gathered strength; our future was assured.
It was because of Rourk, our king, that our tribe had endured.
Before too long we realized we needed room to grow,
more fields and forests we could hunt, more fertile land to sow.
Now we would be invaders who would tread on foreign ground.
With King Rourk as our leader, the troops had gathered ‘round.

We headed off to combat; we raised our battle cry.
We put our faith in God and Rourk, we pledged to do or die.
That is the way of mortals, since time itself began.
We all are doomed to bloodshed when we follow any man.
There is no word about King Rourk, not in a history book.
You won’t find trace of who we were, no matter where you look.
In truth, we were no different from those who came before,
of those fought and lost their lives; there were so many more.
Yes, King Rourk was a legend then, but only for a time.
Like many leaders that we know, his hubris was his crime.

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