In the land of Syria, an epoch meet its end,
The seat of Assad trembles, ‘gainst rebels it can't fend.
An eleven-day blitz echoes, as the sky split asunder,
An era cloaked in shadow, torn by sound and thunder.
Bashar, once a healer of sight, clad in tyranny's mail,
A phantom modernizer, an ill-fabricated tale.
His reign acquired through torment, a despot desperate, lone,
In the heart of Syria, his throne transformed to stone.
But lo, the mighty topples, and joy rings across the land,
Amongst the folk, songs soar high, a liberated band.
Yet frets of formless governance doth chill the joyous cheer,
A vacuum vast invades the void, bred by fall and fear.
