The Picture Show

The thunderous din,
Hallways of applause.
The significantly ordinary,
Calls out always for more.
The yawning processional,
A tapestry of sounds.
The gulf opens up,
Abandonment revealed.
Where were you,
When posterity called?
Alone I faced the weather,
Inclement lions of glass.
The dictates of ceremony,
Called us to account.
All too often,
We are found to be lacking.