A Beastly King's Tale: Based On A True Story!

There was a mighty king of old his heart was lifted high;
His city walls and towers strong his riches made him sigh.

Of all the kingdoms near and far of big and small combine;
no glory shadowed over him no king could match his shine.

And then this king lay down his head for night the sun had dimmed;
he closed his eyes to sleep thought he with pride his heart full brimmed.

Expected he to dream of wealth, of glory, fame, and praise;
instead a root of greatest height began to weave it's maze.

A sturdy tower, a blooming bud, a tree to heaven reached;
its fruit delivered willingly, it's sweetness all men preached.

It's shadow from the noon day heat provided creatures care;
of comfort, peace and sheltered rest for any stopping there.

No woodman's axe, no fires flame could take away it's length;
with passing time it's mighty limbs would only grow in strength.

Until one day a watcher from highest heaven flew;
along with him a holy one with both a mission true.

They felled the mighty trunk, yes and brought it to the ground;
destroying all but lowly stump, beside no leaf was found.

Seven seasons, seven rains, fruitless harvests, blinding rays;
no signature of greatness, no legacy, nor praise.

With this the king woke startled, quite unsure of what he'd seen;
he knew he had to seek it out what could the vision mean.

He called the wisest of the wise he searched for all his gods;
but none could find the reason and left the king at odds.

But then an idea struck him of one that he could call;
he claimed to be a servant of the greatest God of all.

The prophet stood in silence as the king relayed the tale;
and then left in eerie musement once instructed not to fail.

For hours the man sat speechless as Jehovah answered true;
the meaning of this vision brought sorrow coming due.

The tree explained the prophet oh prideful king is you;
reduced to live as cattle, you soon will follow through.

You credit all your power, your greatness and your wealth;
you look not to the maker but find it all in self.

Until you look with in you and see a creature true;
you never will be ready to bow your heart a new.

A day a, a week, a month, a year passed quickly for the king;
until the prophecy became a true and living thing.

His heart was full of wickedness, was woven through with pride;
he looked at all his kingdom and himself he glorified.

And before the next full hour in misery and shame;
the king had lost his senses this man a beast became.

For seven years he lingered his hair and nails grown thick,
he crawled on bended knee and hands as time began to tick.

And then one day God's mercy fell upon the wretched soul;
his memories returned to him, his senses became whole.

And in that very moment he praised the God most high;
for none can rule in power without Him standing by.

The beast became a king once more a modest, wiser king;
all honor and praises to only one would he forever sing.

And now my story's ended its moral should ring true;
a broken contrite spirit yield, lest pride make ruin you!

It's definitely a PETER NIGHT!

OUCH! MY FEET AND LEGS HURT ME SO BAD. I CANNOT SLEEP. PLEASE PRAY FOR ME. I WANT TO BE HEALTHY AGAIN! IT'S SO HARD TO EXPLAIN. IM FRUSTRATED AND UNCOMFORTABLE.

I CAST ALL MY CARES UPON YOU! I LAY ALL OF MY BURDEN DOWN AT YOUR FEET AND ANY TIME THAT I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO I WILL CAST ALL MY CARE UPON YOU.

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