A Poem of Hubris

It has been a while since my last poem, but here is a new one.

A mighty man, warchief and a lord, with wealth to buy what few could afford,
Full of pride, boasting over every thing, brought him the ire of Cstephon, the king.
Cstephon called to him a man, black of heart; Thoth Amon, dabbler in the dark art.
“Rid me this man who thinks himself great. Toss him where none can learn of his fate.”
The evil wizard heeded the command, another exiled under his cruel hand.
From wealth and fame to a wooden cross, surviving more vital than his loss.
But he was not yet defeated, no matter how he was treated.
He would still demonstrate his power, by constructing the highest tower.
Knapping simple tools from the stone, laid the foundation on his own.
Slowly rising, the start of his keep, high as a giant spider can leap.
“Why settle for stone when it could be brick?” He pondered aloud as he swung his pick.
He built a furnace, stocked it with coal, began baking bricks when it was full.
Now with bricks, he could make it grow, higher than a rhino’s last throe.
Still unworthy of him, he derided, hardened brick was better, he decided.
A dozen furnaces for the brick, and dozen slaves tending, was the trick.
Taskmasters watching them work the fire, a lash to motivate when they tire.
The tower reached up into the sky, above the height where the vultures fly.
But a new matter unsettled his brain, what glory was in a tower so plain?
Rugs for the floors, banners on the walls, statues and braziers in all the halls.
His structure shown with a lavish veneer, and he looked down to see the Mountaineer.
From every corner it could be seen, and beyond the wall of deadly green.
The king heard of it and began to rage, “He mocks me even from inside his cage!”
Cstephon called Thoth Amon with a frown, his order simple; it must come down.
An army of bones, a dragon long-dead, “Go forth and destroy,” the sorcerer said.
The tower was tall, and inside was grand, but its foundation was still built on sand.
It all crumbled, an end to his glory, his life, too, at its ending was gory.
Few dare defy Cstephon, the king, and Thoth Amon, of the Black Ring.

My other Conan Exiles poems:
A Poem of Pirates
A Poem of Cannibalism
A Poem of Fools