Respice post te, Hominem te esse memento

The parade tore air itself asunder
as trumpeteers unfurled their great fanfares,
so heralding the imminent thunder
of lordly stallions pulling gilded chairs.
This revelling in triumph no man spares.
Even in lofty Olympus so high
no god would dare claim men’s glory not theirs.
Disgraced were those who’d staked the Dux defy
yet the shamed alone knew they were to die.
A crown lingered o’er the general’s head;
stain and vice his godly robes did belie.
A slave held the wreath over him, and said:
Look behind you, your glory fleeting is.
You are but a man, do not forget this.

Libertines, Tyrants, and Man.

If only Man could live like those other
freethinkers who exist o’er existence.
Libertines past humanity’s wonder;
those who love for its sake, without pretence.
But Man berates himself for such amours.

If only Man could live fearless of those
who dare oppress and punish other men.
Yet ’tis naught but o’ fancy an o’erdose;
Oppressors are no more than other men
and Man himself is the only Tyrant.

Alas, there’s yet more for Man’s sweet dolour.
If it be regarded in true candour
what he loves and fears most is ev’ryone.
Libertines, Tyrants, and Man, all are one.