Gladiator
- Poetry
- Feb 3
- 1 min read
Poem
By Ranen Tan
Dust and devils that drove the peace,
plague the lives of the less and poor;
He squats there, emboweled in sand,
beaten and bloodied as a formless cur.
His fading breath chained by stillness
behold the rusted bights that sway
athwart. There once was a freer,
bluer sky binding him instead.
When madness sits in place enthroned,
who in the land escapes contagion?
The blood of kings wrote where he sat:
Ave Imperator, morituri te salutant.
Fling wide the gates! Open the doors!
Enter the roar of glory unchained:
Promise! Power! Presence! Live!
Ave Imperator, morituri te salutant!
Ranen Tan is a Fiction editor for Burnings. Find out more here.