Monument

How many false dawns
rosefaded into the horizon
before you fall?
Heart-stop Man,
always pushing the boundaries
cresting the peaks
plumbing the depths
taking upon yourself the mantle
of the Almighty.
Trust me,
a hushed hubris is tumbriling
its inexorable way towards you;
so, go on,
caper careless on your column
pirouette on a plinth
of your own making;
the smoking pyre will engulf
even you,
the beast of your inhumanity to man
will seek you out in the ruins
and turn the cliché of your crouched charm to dust