Verse 34
The old king heard an infant cry and mistook it for the sound of his throne cracking.
The old king heard an infant cry and mistook it for the sound of his throne cracking.
So he ordered the cradle brought before him.
His ministers said the prophecy was uncertain. He punished them for uncertainty.
His priests said the prophecy was sacred. He rewarded them for fear.
One by one he swallowed the future and called the silence stability.
The palace grew quiet enough to hear his stomach.
He slept poorly.
In dreams, the children he had consumed grew older without bodies.
They held elections in his ribs.
They wrote constitutions on his bones.
They laughed whenever he called himself eternal.
The king awoke and doubled the guard.
No guard can stop what has already been eaten.
Outside, the people painted his portraits larger as his courage became smaller.
A demon at court advised him: Majesty, perhaps keep one child alive.
The king asked why.
So there will be someone left to blame.
The demon was promoted.
At last a son returned bearing neither mercy nor novelty, only the ancient family sickle.
The king recognized it immediately.
Every tyrant is an archivist of the weapon used against his father.
Thus the age changed its name and kept the furniture.