Their eyes watched
His alighted, singed wing
It was this day, this moment
They stopped hearing the lark sing
The plebeians accepted
Their sentence
Lineage scoured
With cruel condescendence
See Jupiter’s glare, the tense arcus
The dust stilled, dazzling heights
Were dashed
Chariots thundered,
levity vanished, rotted, cascades
No longer thrashed
In yesteryear, they knew a rouge-colored sky
They knew of depressions and renaissances
They knew of the pitted brown winters
They knew of fresh fields calling
They now see vein’s maroon
From a high hope’s falling
His evanescent eye
turned sour
The horns blared,
bellowed, devoured
The cracked whips never liberated
They never knew a golden second
Fallen feathers now, end the scene
Grazed tips, a stellar dream
No one sees him from his sunken stream
Plebeians that call, they fall from their means
Plebeians walk on the cracked dust they know well
Mute instruments chill the heart when it begins to swell
Levity of the spirit welcomes them to sin
Gravitas dons his cape
They know not, see not, from within
Melanie Falconer is a freelance writer and editor living in Los Angeles, California. Her writing mainly concerns philosophy, personal experiences, cultural commentary, and her love of the visual and performing arts. If you’d like to reach out to her, you can do so here.
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