To lead the world, a prophecy called,
For him to return, his soldiers recalled,
But now, he was old, weak and a lonely wanderer,
For them, he was the conqueror.

His charge shook the lithos of the fields,
His mighty sword was his only yield,
He was not their king nor any heir,
Still his might was the enemy's despair.

His wrath burnt those mighty kingdom,
Who challenged his power over his wisdom,
But now, he was old, weak and a lonely wanderer
For them, he was the conqueror.

He remained undefeated in battles,
He served those kings who never left their castles,
His power questions the might of all,
Who treacherously ordered his downfall.

He was sent to exile, far far away,
He lived their in a state of decay,
He was now dead not anymore a lonely wanderer
After all, he was the conqueror
© CaptainPat04