At dusk there strode a traveler toward our gates alone
His limp supported by a cane that made his presence known
An object in his free hand’s clutch beneath the torchlight shone:
A leather-bound edition of a once forgotten tome
He said, “I hold within my hand the answer to your pleas”
And so we looked inside with doubt of varying degrees
At first the diagrams and digits left us ill at ease
But in the early light of dawn our eyes began to see
By noon we’d chosen wisely where the raising would commence
And as the week wore on the tower proved to be immense
Such heights were needed for the structure’s apex to dispense
A charge so great as to secure the Kingdom’s last defense
Upon completion on the seventh day we felt a shock
Electric conductivity betrayed a silent plot
For now the chargers neared and soon their strike would be for naught
When finally we awed to see what Tesla’s mind had wrought
A drone became a crackling hiss then came a violent surge
Of lightning from the apex as the river’s mouth emerged
Their current’s charge was overcome by force when each converged
And of its last forsaken watt their power source was purged
The remnants of the enemy were chargeless and in flight
Yet still the Kingdom’s tower struck with bolts of savage light
And when the heir to Tesla’s tome had wandered out of sight
We prayed the heartless football gods would stave the dark of night
