Stuck on the wrong side

of Kafka's bespoke door, 

professed gateway to the law, 

with a lock and key made to fit, 

and a gatekeeper quite akin

to the dreaded hound of Hades. 

 

To plead, cajole and bribe

adds only irony to the plight,

for Cerberus cares not

for the tremulous who fawn. 

 

Action sans sapience, 

sure-fire path to stasis;

yet the psychomachy rages on,

and the stalemate fails to don

the soothing cease-fire's robe.