42

42 is a code!

The king is a liar”, they whispered in fear

Painted by dark nightly hands

On peasants doors throughout the land

That they rise up with angry fists held high

Bound by the revelation of the unspeakable truth

And a secret code

The king’s men failed to know.

Out of their shadow lives they came

From behind the walls and under doors

An unseen nightly force of anger

Unleashed slaves of a thousand years

Blood spilled in the high towers of those whose power wained

A moonless night

When the silent ones found a voice

To burn the sun

The king’s men laid their arms to rest

Their eyes open wide in disbelief

Starring at the Crown’s old flag ol’ glory

Tatters in a night so dark and chill

The king is dead murdered in his land

Knives to his throat and into the heart

By slaves bound too hard for all too long

With a cry of freedom in their voice

“The King is dead!”, they scream

A crown-less head the peasant crowd is shown

With eyes scratched out

So that finally he could see

The tyrant gone

The land now free

A new day

A new dawn