My Fallen Kingdom

Why must we beg for feeling of something so concrete only a fool would believe it otherwise? As if the fact set in stone was not good enough to be acknowledged, to the extent of which one would be denying the very existence of the ten fingers at the end of their hand, that the head upon their shoulders is not theirs. If something is fact, if there is no way someone could deny the factual relevance of something, then why must it be denied the right to be understood rather than questioned? At what point does a trust become so discounted that it is no longer a trust? But rather a collection of words that shall echo about the timeless world of lost hope that once was.
A kingdom is nothing without an army, if a kingdom has an army who understands the reason for which the kingdom is there, and believes in the concrete being of that kingdom, then that kingdom shall not fall. If an army spends all of its time wondering when the kingdom shall crumble, then it shall crumble before the numbers on their fingers hit 10.