It is said that a wise traveler in a foreign land avoids politicians and social unrest. I once was born to this land, a native sprout of its soil, but it is no longer my home. I must remember its fate is no longer in my hands. Yet I weep for its withered blooms of promise yet standing in the arid fields of liberty.
“Can humankind rule itself?” the authors once questioned.
“Apparently not” the faded blossoms replied. The people demand a King, and a King they shall receive.