I saw ten thousand men two thousand years ago, crying for mercy, hope, greed, hatred, lust, fear, and love. Later that day a man died. I heard a woman wept, the love I will never have the chance to know.
I saw sixty thousand men today, with objects held up high past their excited more than curious eyes.
People of money and public power were there, seated under the shade against the beaming sun impatiently waiting for the show to impress.
More men raced to the altar, more crosses were carried, sightings of blood and fresh wounds made the crowd happy more than pity. I saw a woman clad in veil, someone dressed as a priest, and a barbarian riding a horse, spitting, and with stares that could kill. Talking as if he own whatever he sees. I am sure I've seen this before, something so real to the gut, but this is not. Sheer entertainment is everyone's business if not all.
That was past three in the afternoon when flesh met its foe, later on a man died or so I thought he did, because I saw people smiling. Heard more laughter and a few more howls than grief. Then I heard a woman cried, for lust, for money, and for herself.
By that time, I can't really tell what's going on or what was wrong. I wonder, will the love ever be known?
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