The first king thought he had it all figured out.
The second king killed furiously.
The third king lied.
The fourth king had too many women.
The fifth king fought too many wars.
The sixth king had too many enemies.
The seventh king had too many Gods.
The eighth king healed the sick, fed the poor, and was killed because he said he came to free the people from their sins. His story has given kings strength on their last days, and has given people with nothing a reason to rise. In times of sadness, in times of tragedy, in times of war, and in times of complete chaos, supreme understanding and calm spirits have to come from somewhere. For a person to live in freedom and forget about the greatest story ever told, that person may not be free at all, but is deprived of another place outside of this world, another kingdom, and most of all—another home. This can’t be it, there has to be more. If one out of a billion sperm make it to the egg, where does the other 999,999,999 million go? Some kings think they have it all figured out, some kings kill furiously, some kings lie, some kings have too many women, some kings fight too many wars, some kings have too many enemies, some kings have too many Gods, and some kings show mercy. In the end, we all have to die with a legacy left behind. One out of all eight kings has given me a reason to get up and try again. My ego is gone, I humbly take off my own crown, I let go of my own faults, and most of all I find a friend. As my brother, if I can’t do it he can. I find the king of kings.
King of Kings.
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