Emperor's Thumb

Amid the savage screams and blood-curdling shrieks of the blood-thirsty mob, the emperor rises in murk and fug like a foul mood, glares and gazes down the bloodied arena below; there stands swaying, solitary, a weary, wounded gladiator in a frozen poise of striking with his bloody, broken sword the vanquished at his feet as the crowd roars louder, more hysterical and maniacal, clamoring for that sign from the bejeweled hand: thumb up means spare him, thumb down means kill; although he always can, he won't let them down for he, too, shares their joy; drunk with grandeur, he dispenses life or death, decides who lives or dies, who should be in or out, who should be up or down, ah, prepositional aesthetics, infantile sense of omnipotence!