In halls of marble, whispers weave,
Where shadows dance and powers cleave.
The tapestry of fate is spun,
By hands unseen, yet never done.

Voices rise in echoed halls,
Promises float like distant calls.
A nation’s hope in fragile threads,
Woven through what silence dreads.

Beneath the gaze of watchful eyes,
Governance molds beneath the skies.
A fragile balance, ever held,
In chambers where ambitions meld.

Through storms of change and winds of strife,
The dance of power shapes our life.
In every choice, a future cast,
The echoes of decisions past.