The throne is cold and empty now,
The unwilling king is gone.
Deposed, by self insistence.
A hermit and so free.

And yet, with a little hindsight,
With so much time in hand.
Ex king is much reflecting
What happened to his band.

As a king he was unhappy,
As a hermit now unsure.
Can anyone really understand
This predicament at hand?

The grass seems always greener,
The other side of the fence.
Does life need to be cruel?
A crown for a bowl of gruel?

Health and wisdom are the kingpins
On what life should hang upon.
Give him friends and understanding
And a shoulder to cry on.

Bless all fellows who are seeking.
All the truth that they can find.
For without this main ingredient,
Life is simply just a bind.