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.