The Coliseum Poem by kendall thomas

Four stories
filled with blood of
centuries’ infamy.
The sword,
holy scepter of man.

How short this journey
‘cross the sand
from the Gate of Life
to the one beyond
where Charon stands.

Surely you knew fear,
young gladiator;
yet marched
in pomp acting like a man.

No doubt you wished to be
with the abiding rabble
who clapped their soft clean hands.

How long this monument endures
is testament, I guess,
to what the ages demand.

How many more must lapse,
stone becoming sand?