A golden afternoon, clouds alight with fire,

Where the sky plays with lives,

Mortality a passing whim.

Is pleasure not enough?

Is pain not yet old?

What other novelties will you reach to unfold?

Distracted by pleasure,

Consumed with pain,

An egotistic touch

Lines every passing day.

Can you not hear their pleas?

They beg for their king.

But the one who shines cares not for their shrines,

His mind is possessed with dreams of ascent,

His days spent climbing,

Ignoring their crying.

Now, the sky meets his own,

A mind born from wisdom and war.

The favored heir with the god of gods

Meet in a grove of golden promise.

The sky delights and sings his praise,

But only ‘til he feels the blade.

Sweet, golden liquid flows,

Mortality as no god has known

Finds the sky and claims him here,

Betrayed by one with plots untold.

She drinks upon his life, his vigor,

Power now hers eternal.

She looks above, claiming her reign,

All in a golden afternoon,

Under the skies of cloudless blue.