Abdicated king

I stand, an abdicated king,
at my old castle’s
ramparts. I have fallen, an old apple.
Now I stand and watch the splinters
of twilight fall around me.
This is better than being king,
crushed by two hundred tons
of sunlight streamed from across the sky,
flattening the mightiest regent in all of Christandom.
Now, as I fall, I make my way down to the water’s edge,
the old moat that protected me from invaders
I hand my septer, my crown,
all my regalia to the guardian at the gate.
I look down into the muddy water of the moat,
and I try to see fish.