The Guarded Mind

You have drudged the mote around the castle
   rock walls four stories high
      ten feet thick
Little slits for a barrage
   of one-way arrows

Catapults pulled tight
   ready to launch an offensive
       of boulders oiled and lit
A stronghold of thousands of cavalry
   and infantry laced with steel plates and blades

And to protect what?
   a senile old man sitting behind iron bars
     on an uncomfortable golden chair
From a messanger with a scroll
   upon which is written:
     
'Peace'