Is he an icon or an idol? Good or Evil?

His face is stern, inflexible and grim.

He gives a sign and with a great upheaval,

The orchestra appears in front of him.

 

They congregate, blockading light, refusing

To let the silence offer me repose.

Their blaring horns, their shrieking, wailing music

Beats down on me without a single pause.

 

Into the depths of darkness, they return

Where happiness and tears can’t be discerned.