Building the dream

It was to be a great day on the square
crowds aplenty to witness the headliner
as he stepped on the stage for a funeral farewell.

Of course, the eager audience must wait
until the opening act would at last end
in undistinguished agony.

Pale as he reached the center
no one even noticed as they munched
on the well-planned picnic of
delicate aromas and sparkling spirits.

Hands tied behind his back he was pitiful as
ever in an existence not a soul recognized
the eyes cried final tears in the ultimate solitude.

When they closed as his head rolled to the ground
inadvertently it leaped among febrile feet
an annoyance to the jolly populace.

Clamors arose when the long-awaited murderer
breathed his last arrogant as he addressed
men, women, and children as if their idol.

When all had dispersed the mutilated body
of the one whom no one would remember
remained in the mud trampled by the carriages.

Was his lot to be the same in eternity
unimportant, uninteresting even to his maker
to roam the infinite in utter aloneness
but now unable even to cry.