Even the putrid stink of peace 
Couldn't put us off.
As we reached the borderlands 
I heard the cotton heads of waves
Rolling into the black sandy beach - 
A monochrome mess.
It was the sign we had all been mindful of.
The sign we were close to home a
And nothing could stop us.
The flesh clung close to our colour-clashing, pixelated bones
Until we looked like 8-bit loading-screen villains
Slowly appearing line by jittering line 
Amid the irregular dancing of blitting
And the ear-grating harpy wails. 
I felt more and more complete with each step
As if the treading coloured me 
With more defined resolution.
Facing the towers wrapped in glorious thunder,
The licking lashes of lightning empowering them,
I knew my journey was over
And I could finally enjoy
The trophy of my vanity.

Mary Shelley, English novelist and poet, died on this day in 1851.

Boris Yeltsin, Russian politician and first president of the Russian Federation, was born today in 1931.