A Prince's Words. Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The air hung thick, a quiet dread,
A prince's words, softly said.
No anger flared, no fists were clenched,
Just truth's cold weight, carefully trenched.

'You see it too, ' his gaze implied,
'The storm that gathers, deep inside.
This chaos sown, this fractured trust,
Not accident, but darkly lust.'

A hand rose, stopped the hurried plea,
'Let me speak plain, let all men see.
When rules are bent, and standards fall,
The wicked rise, embracing all.'

He named the name, a heavy stone,
'He thrives where order's overthrown.
He doesn't flee from swirling dust,
He needs the storm, fueled by distrust.'

'Emergency, a whispered plea,
To crush the vote, and silence me.
No midterms then, a single hand,
To rule the country, tear apart the land.'

A murmur rose, 'Extreme, I say, '
He met the lens, with steady ray.
'Extreme's the death of liberty,
To dodge the law, and bend decree.'

'A man in chains, awaiting trial,
Won't guard the rules, with honest vial.
He seeks the cracks, the shifting ground,
Where fragile laws can be unbound.'

'He doesn't crave a winning vote,
But ends the need, a single note.
Believe it not, you'll wake one day,
To armored trucks, and freedom's fray.'

No voice dissented, held its ground,
Just recognition, profound.
The chilling truth, now brought to light,
A nation's future, dark as night.

T.M.Solvang