The pool upon which that vain man might gaze upon his own visage-

A gift he generously bestowed upon the world

Became a poorly performing reason for triage.

But it was a beauteous thing, his essence pearled

 

Into an iridescent surface, pristine in its untouched state.

Ideally his own vision of what constituted aesthetic bliss.

Some waver, afraid of what critical gaze may demonstrate.

Yet, there he stands, proud, he had not been remiss.

 

Yet, there he stood, cowed, aghast at this abasement.

For that handsome young thing,

Just yesterday, was a gilded idol.

 

So he petitions against this effacement.

His pool, indolently still, after the drowning. 

The painterly facade upon which his corpse shall cling - idyll.