Mock Epic: The Labyrinth Of Forms Poem by ashok jadhav

Sing, O Quill, and Ledger, mighty chroniclers,
Of Heroes trapped within the halls of Bureaucracy,
Where Institutions rise like citadels of stone,
And mortals struggle under mountains of paperwork.
Behold the Hero, armed with pen and patience,
Approaching gates guarded by Clerks of stern countenance.
Forms stretch endlessly, scrolls of impossible width,
Stamped and signed, countersigned, initialed again.
Each window a fortress, each line a riddle,
Each seal a test of mortal will and wits.
The Queue, a river of sighs and trembling hands,
Moves slow as glaciers, yet demands urgent devotion.
Rules shift like capricious winds of fate,
And deadlines loom, thunderous, unyielding.
Requests are denied, rerouted, sent to the abyss,
While the Hero retraces steps, weary yet steadfast.
The Oracles of Policy speak in tongues arcane:
"Please fill out Form 7B in triplicate,
Attach proof of prior authorization,
And return to Window 12 before the hour of closing."
Confusion rises like monsters from deep pits,
And patience, the hero's only sword, grows thin.
At last, with signature secured, stamp affixed,
The Hero emerges, victorious yet battered.
The Institution stands eternal, untouched,
A labyrinthine realm of order and chaos entwined,
Where every citizen, brave or foolish, must march,
Through corridors of rules, forms, and indelible bureaucracy.
Thus ends the epic struggle with mortal systems,
Where valor is measured in patience, persistence,
And even small triumphs shine like medals
In the grand, absurd theatre of Institutions.