2001
Stand in silent stalemate.
To move is death, sure and swift,
Rendered by absolute threat;
To sit is interminable stagnance,
Safety trapped in a box.
I see how this is a draw:
Life shrivels in a fortress,
But beyond is none at all;
There is no choice.
So the kingdom stands stoic,
Proudly heroic,
In a tranquillity wrought without free will
It is
A harsh rendition of peace.
