In courts of shadow, thrones are made,
Not by virtue—but by blade.
From Persia’s gate to Zion’s hill,
It’s not peace, but will, that breaks the still.
Two lions stare with burning eyes,
Clad in scripture, veiled in lies.
Each speaks of God, yet plays the game—
Where oil is blood and land is fame.
Iran, the scholar cloaked in flame,
Dreams of empires,...
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