In the 27th year of his Reign.

In the 27^th year of his Reign.

            In the 27^th year of his reign, Michael, the good king of Vuuren, pondered his age in confusion. He sat amidst his subject and a feast as the lilt and lift of song and music assaulted his ears.

            In the 27^th moment of the 7^th day of the 5^th month of this year in which the celebration took place; the lord of Softkey, jumped to his feet to make a pronouncement of such importance that all festivity ceased.

            “I know the meaning of life!”

There was a lot of cheering. Then after a while, all quieted down and a young fool asked what the meaning was.

            “I will tell you.” King Mike declared. “I will tell you all.”

He waved his hands and spread them wide. Then he straightened and places a hand, his left, on his chest and said.

            “Life is like… Life is… well it’s like a poem.”

Then there was cheering until the fool who was young asked how.

            “You see a poem is something written or said- or sung! It has three or four stanzas or maybe five. It has three or four…or five lines per stanza. It has a beginning and an end. It has a body and emotion and its own style. Life is like a poem because it-“

            The king stood motionless as the realization hit him as if struck by an arrow his a target and the answer vibrated in his throat. There was a lot of cheering until the fool said “It? It what?”

            The king remained standing going back through his age of 27 years on the 7^th day of the 5^th month and the 1000^th time that the thought had ground to this end. Life was as indefinable as a poem, as soon as you grasped it as one thing, it would become another. But he couldn’t tell them that- so he said:

            “Or not.”

Then there was a lot of cheering, with his advisors assuring him that it was a profound declaration and went back to the wine and music.