Award

You open the door
and the vast throng roils
on the other side, filled
with an odd passion
to celebrate you. They cast
statues in bronze, plated
in bright gold, and thrust
them into your hands,
tokens of what they say
you’ve achieved. None
of this matters, speeches
and fine clothes, music
that tells you when
to stop talking, give way
for the next person
to take the glinting
stage. None of this
matters at all, so how
would you feel? What
speech would you make,
standing there? Who
would you thank
for all this nothing, and why,
in this baseless award show
of your own making,
would it still feel
like achievement to you?