When he awoke
The folk
He could neither understand
Nor command.

They looked at him with pitty
And made witty
Observations he could not comprehend.
Having no friend
He pondered on whether all that expense
Made sense.

When he had handed over his gold
They had told
Him that “centuries hence
You will be forever free
To be
Whoever you wish to be.
What matter the expense
When you can shatter
This human clay
And forever as a god stay?”

Alone
On his eternal throne
He sits
As wits
Come and go.
I know
Not whether he is content
Nor whether ‘tis the acent
Or the descent of mankind.

Or perhaps many centuries hence
Our descendants will laugh over the expense
Of the vain
Who remain
Frozen in ice.
For the dead can not be broken hearted
And a fool and his money are soon parted.