And he was told that his breakfast would be occasioned midnight. He was told that he would school with the cattle. He was told that his greetings are unto the weeds that must be weeded early dawn. He was told that the morning dews would accompany him to the farm at the first hour of the morning. He was told that his father had nothing left for him for an inheritance so he must quit coveting others. He was told that he must bed with the pigs in their pen and early wash his face with their urine. He was told that he should visit the grave for medical insurance.
This was a one without a buckler. Nor one to lace his boots. Just a swallowed pain of angular tragedy is left to his company.
Then, one day, he lived a KING and chiefly kingly lived with an impact. This then shall the tears which never run dry be shed. It would drift down the cheeks in the fashion of effortless gliding. It would flow but with graduation and with the vector of wild dreams.
This is the story of our own.
Times and the Reality 