The wars we won

My Lord, O King,
if you were to weep today;
weep not for the bitter storms at sea,
weep not for the vengeful warriors from the North,
weep not for the meager harvests,
nor for the scorching sun..
weep not for the flooding rivers
and unexpected flaws in nature we face.
Weep, however, for the wars we have won.
Yes. They demand your tears and
wishless remorse.
They demand you to strip off your robes
and walk in ashy and tattered sacks.
Let your strong hair be covered grey
and heart painted sad.
Let your cries be heard in the gates
and far into the marketplace.
Let the children hear their King cry,
their brave stronghold wail.
They demand you to beat your chest,
this time, in shame and disgust.,
because we could wish we had not.
The wars we won outstripped us.
They left us dazed and stupefied.
They left us feeling untouchable,
invincible.
They left us frenzied and drowning in liquor.
The guards were in merry and
our gates remained unprotected.
The wars we won.
We wanted more. We wished to conquer.
We felt like gods and in only you,
O noble King,
did we believe.
We were happy and oblivious of danger.
Hearken, my King, maybe we did not just do it
all by our might.
The heavens had opened that night
and the light was on our side..
blinding the enemy.
We have won before too.
This time we had found them asleep.
I remember this vividly,
how they woke up to their deaths.
Ambush. When we descended upon
the army of Palcedia.
They were not ready for us
and see what that did to them.
So weep my Lord,
and I will join you.
Heck! The entire Kingdom will
tread your steps.
We will cleanse these walls of all conceit
and redecorate your pathways.
We will humble ourselves
as how we have risen before.
The wars we have won
will be plucked from our eyesight
and we will march for tomorrow,
with our swords sharpened
and pride quietened.