And the wind is quiet,
And the wind is cold,
As it quietly whistles around.
Crumbling leaves echo the steps
Of a mysterious man with big feet.
The thing is large, yet tiny,
Regal, majestic, a tyrant.
"All roads lead to Rome,"
The saying goes,
All roads lead to this monstrosity.
Tiny circles of light dance around,
Coating the forest with lace.
Through the trees came a whisper,
A word, a breath.
Life stirs in surprise,
Then it stills,
It's in horror.
Then a shoe shows its face,
Velvet and black, with a buckle.
And a scurry of feet,
Yet loud and booming,
The bones and the blood of onlookers,
The hair of the servants.
The squeals of pain were loud, bloodcurling,
Sending vibrations around.
The squeals of pain ripped through the air,
The squeals of pain weren't human.
As the bugs were squished underneath the feet,
Their cries of terror and pain
Were heard near the sun, were heard on the Moon,
Yet all just stood by and laughed.
"Come, now," said the man,
"Why, surely, so surely, you cannot feel
For these maggots.
Why surely, so surely, you cannot pity the weak!"
Said the man, and all bowed
Heads in honor and horror.
And around the monument gathered
Women, frail and weak,
Men, so strong but scared,
Children, innocent, happy, oblivious.
The monument gold, screaming "See me,
I'm built on this land, the land of my master,
The land that cannot protest!
I'm built in a forest, among trees, among rocks
Oh see, oh see, how I
Ignore the lake behind me,
Ignore the rocks around me,
Ignore the endless trees and dirt,
How I can't see the people,
The suffering, pain, and death.
Yes, I am built among beauty,
But beauty has not yet reached me!
Oh, see me, majestic, in charge!"
The monstrosity screamed and everyone heard,
But all still bowed down before it.
The lord chose now to say, "Oh, listen,
Yes, listen, you hideous freaks,
To sustain this colossal, this beauteous thing,
You must all pay a heavier tax."
So the lord has said,
And the lord will say,
And the lord is saying now.
And the onlookers bowed,
And the onlookers left,
And the onlookers did as told.
They continued to do so,
Being trampled by, well,
Being trampled by only themselves.
Here they stood, here they thought,
"Tomorrow we'll rise,
We'll say 'no,' we will fight."
But tomorrow is always today.
So they stood in the forest,
On dead leaves so brown,
And on fresh frost so gray,
And on new grass, on old grass,
On heat and in cold,
Every morning they went,
Every morning they went to their lord.
And they bowed down before him,
And they whimpered and cried,
But they didn't, they couldn't
Hear the seagull so soft, yet so shrill,
See the spider so small, but so deadly,
And among these, they stand,
Still and quiet and waiting.
Still they wait for the end,
And they wait, and they wait,
They are standing there waiting, now too!
And they stand there, they shake,
And they stand there, they wait,
Oh, what are they waiting for?
They grow old and they die,
Their descendants now join,
The crowd, and the wait, and the misery.
Upon bones they stand, and they stand and they wait,
They're still waiting,
Still waiting forever.
The lord, harsh like Winter,
The subjects, meek leaves,
The monument, standing so still,
Like the year, small and quiet,
The year, loud and large.
It's the life of the people of nature.
They're born, and they wait, and they die,
They wait for the end,
Yet, never it comes.
They wait for the end,
Yet, it's useless.
Here they stand, here they wait,
Here, it happens again.
Not noticed, it goes
In a cycle, so firm and unbroken.
And it goes, and it goes,
It's not stopped...