The flea and me

I was born not of blood nor human bone,
no rhythmic heart, dare say I have no soul.
Play with spirit that I did,
danced in war games with the great Sand King.
The grand cadence of my life changed forevermore, prophecy has a role in everything.

The battle left no winners, just me and one annoying pocket flea.
The sun sneered and peered, burning all, no Gods of War does it fear.
A wake of bearded vultures enjoyed the marrow moment, never shedding a single tear
...and the flea and me, we kept silent, that was our Cree.

Once the bone breakers finished bashing out tunes of a rocky beat,
the concert was over, Death bid goodbye to the waving Sahara heat.
Laying in the gravestone rubble, my bloody companion by my side,
the hairy nose of my saviour gave breath to my demise.

Riches to rags this is what I had become,
fortunately the scavenger prince was not dumb like some, eyes of hope sparkled like my crafty mum.
A camel ride took me to where the Dunes met wealthy East. 
My life redeemed until my appearance at the Royal Wedding Feast. 

Dressed in purple velvet and a robe made of pure gold,
all eyes were upon me as I glistened upon a throne, handsome and so bold.
A treasured gift I became to the Princess, the love attraction gnawed at her waning Prince Sulla Moon
A threat to his manhood, she idolised me from dusk till high noon.

Jealousy,deception,lust 
the Jaguar’s paws crept in to seal the Queen’s fate.
A viper tongue, the walking dead, took away her life, 
the stars laid her soul at the Gold Dust Gate. 

Whispering words of deceit plagued the earth like weeds of disease, 
the ground opened, the sun darkened, Sulla Moon’s empire fell with ease.
Once again we lay, but could not pray, 
a flea bitten doll made of hay and clay, 
lost toy of fame ...the Flee and Me. 
Ashqelon was my name.
by Abre.