No banners wave, no boots in line,
No marching columns lock in time.
Yet something shifts, a silent crack,
The ground gives way—we can't turn back.

He rules not as the past has shown,
No iron grip, no brutal throne.
But whims unleashed, all rules declined,
A lawless world, a fractured mind.

The courts still stand, their robes still flow,
Yet power twists, the cracks still grow.
A word, a tweet, a sneer, a guise—
And all collapses under lies.

The ministries—unmanned, laid bare,
The universities—stripped of care.
The weight of knowledge turned to dust,
Truth now bows to greed and lust.

Not yet the storm, but winds rise high,
He counts the years, he craves the stage.
The past erased, the future nigh,
A ruler born to outlive age.