I hear a cacophony of the most sickening glee;
Amidst echoes sings a blackbird, “none of you can see!”
Yet the fire crackles and burns – indeed, we are warm;
Folly! the word bellowed; there is shelter in the storm.
O hallowed Sisyphus, for now you become ours;
Atop this stony mountain stands boulders in towers.
The toiling man gaunt; the remedy for troubles a dime,
A palace for all, the serpent beguiles, “sell me your time.”
The masses are but a herd, for wool adorns my throne,
Woe is the lord’s station, perfectly bereft of their bones!
Sing dear comrade; let sweet words marry your invisible hand;
An eternal applause forged for a production so grand.
Lightning strikes naught like dames within my thrall,
For this I am a martyr, thanks be to the Apostle Paul.
What rapture life offers! One need only open eyes,
Heed not that odd bird, nor what he implies.
“What use are my wings, when leisure becomes you!
No strife’s to be found, and yet that gorget holds true,
The fire’s warmth wholly trivial, Helios’ marvels still hidden;
O glorified slave, curiosity is not forbidden!”
