Just Another brick in the fortress wall
Just another person in the queue who wants to be enthralled
It’s like a practice run for the final journey to heaven
Too many people want to get in
It looks like absolute murder
As we fly past in our taxi transporter
You have to pity the poor sods somewhat
Imagine having to be in that!
Is there another way?
A suited man says there is if we follow without delay
Only 158 euros, if you can spare ‘em
We are on holiday I suppose, so we’ll cough up the sum
As I dawns on me I’ve left the real world behind
He tells me not to worry, the tour is booked, but if you don’t mind
Before you enter this special place please
Do make sure your fiancé covers her knees
And so, thank god, we skip the big queue
Then join another that was just out of view
We ditch the tour guide
Head straight for the the prize
The thing everyone is here for
To gaze upon that ceiling high above the floor
And marvel at the wonder of one man’s work
But there’s just a few things to get through first
Room after room of priceless treasures
Grand paintings and imposing sculptures
Of various idealised people doing various things
In various ways in various settings
Either they are biblical in nature
Stories you heard in your school enclosure
Or they are images of the richest people around at the time
Who had enough money to pay in kind
To those with enough skill to reproduce their image
In stone or in pigment, and capture their privilege
Try to pay attention to it all
It seems so important to act all enthralled
You’ll only see this once
Take it all in, don’t fall in a trance
But somewhere between the 28th and 34th rooms
I lose my focus adrift among heirlooms
Each room in the same way is filled to the brim
With important looking stuff to impress the pilgrims
Depictions of yet more idealised people doing yet more things
In yet more ways in yet more settings
I get it
History is lit
A lot of things have happened
But a nagging feeling in me asserts that this is all vapid
In any case, there’s too much to consume
I can’t remember the first 28 rooms
What’s the point of paying attention now?
With our knees safely covered, onwards we plough
Past Another nude man or woman or baby with wings
More statues and statues and paintings and things
Another crowded scene to ponder, what was that like?
I wonder as I squeeze through another multitude and continue on my hike
I forget each room as soon as I depart
Then realise a sudden change to modern art
Minimal representation of stuff and things
But that’s even lower in my intellectual rankings
And then suddenly, is this it?
Pleasingly so, as I was quite near my limit
But don’t stop there, no talking
Get to the middle, Keep walking
Now, Crane your neck, look up and see
Why everyone’s here, a nice backdrop to a cheeky selfie
And what is it all about?
Cast your gaze up and try to figure it out
More idealised images of people to peruse,
More human forms most don’t measure up to
Adverts from a time we were the centre of everything
Since then the universe has been steadily expanding
We have many ways to depict ourselves now
In an idealistic way, to sell something new
It still usually works just as they planned
While we carry on believing that we have our own minds
By Glenn Hustler 2019
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