A Tragic Meditation
When crowns grow heavy with untempered pride,
And princes sleep on pillows stuffed with fear,
The gatekeeper becomes the sharpest blade,
For trust, once sold, turns traitor in the dark.
Not by the roar of cannons was he taken,
Nor by the storming of the city’s wall;
But by the hush of steps he paid to guard,
And whispers bought with gold and bitter hope.
O tragic state, when sentinels of flesh
Forget the oath that binds them to the dawn,
And lead the stranger through familiar halls
To where their master dreams himself secure.
Thus Caesar falls not first to foreign steel,
But to the hands that clasped him yesternight;
Thus Duncan’s peace is broken by his host;
Thus kings are slain before their crowns are stripped.
What fortress stands when loyalty is thin?
What armour shields a ruler from his own?
The bedchamber—last refuge of command—
Becomes the stage where sovereignty expires.
So fell Maduro, named but once in time,
Not first by fleets nor thunder from the skies,
But by the fracture of his trusted ring,
When guards became the guides of alien feet.
Yet mark this well, ye judges of the deed:
Power that feeds on fear must sleep with one eye closed.
A throne upheld by hunger, jail, and threat
Invites the dagger by the servant’s smile.
Still, let not conquerors grow drunk with ease:
For force that strides where law should humbly walk
Sows seeds that time will harvest into flames,
And today’s triumph may be tomorrow’s shame.
O leaders all, whether crowned or cloaked,
Learn this before the night learns it for you:
Command is kept by trust more than by steel,
And fate attends the bed of every king.
For empires fall not when the foe is strong,
But when the soul within them is untrue.
Chorus
Attend, ye rulers walking mortal ground,
Who wear the state as robe and not as trust:
No throne is built of iron alone,
Nor stands by watchful eyes that lack a soul.
The crown that feeds on silence, chains, and fear
Shall hear betrayal whisper in its sleep;
The power that leaps where law dares only kneel
Shall find its triumph brief and dearly bought.
Learn then this sum, writ plain by blood and time:
That strength untempered breaks its bearer first;
That guards dishonoured sell the keys of night;
That fate keeps counsel with the just and patient.
So ends this act—take heed, ye thrones of clay:
Who rule by fear shall fear their guards one day;
For justice binds where force must ever fail,
And crowns endure when conscience holds the scale.
CRAFTED BY COLONEL AUGUSTINE ANSU RTD
4TH JANUARY 2026
