the David

Great statue, great city.

Our flawed human figures

dwarfed by the David.

Taking its picture.

All needed to. Craved it.


To catch -but a glimpse-

of our own perfection

reflected from phone screens

on self-doubting questions


To be staring, be stared at

a symbol - ideal.

Who's figure in stone stands

never to kneel.


And the clouds driving o'r Tuscany hills

were bored, so haughtily pleaded to Jove

to observe our wants and cherish our wills.


It was for so we envisioned

the stone breathing life.

Far more than commissioned

Marble come wise.


Turning round slowly

finding us lowly

he found us below

and thus David Spoke:


"Witness me humans.

Perfection made flesh!

I too was confined

wroth by the boundaries beheld by our kind

I will give you the key

to er'lasting glory

thy'll all hold the answer - its usage is free.

Man becomes more through the means of his story."


And so we -inspired-

trod out and we spread

that innermost fire

that David had fed


And the clouds driving o'r Tuscany bains

They giggled at mankind: "Thy struggle is vain.

If thou art but ashes still we shall remain."


As mankind respond not to cloud

leaving them dulled, o'r time they forgot

of the promise they made in boasting so loud.


There was no need to remember

as however hard fought

time puts out any ember

and man's life is but short.


And the clouds driving o'r Tuscany graves

witnessed new clouds form. These clouds manmade.

Its was in soaring of rockets man's story escaped.