(for Mitch, who provided the title.)    
     hear him.
          he is you:
     “watch me.”
                                   a human buddha
                                        was a statue
                                         at one time.
     the idea
possessed him,
  made him strive.
                                     as a picture, framed,
                                  he was weak. as an icon,
                                      he served no one.
    yet once he
stepped outside
   the rectangles,
                                    outside the windows
                                      of designer shops
                                     and into a series of
  concentric circles,
he was freed. once he
 lived as  a human being,
                                        the concept proved
                                    unnecessary and the real
                                        thing took its place.
  “I, as you, had been
 in the window this whole
   time.” He dressed, then,
                                        and rose to leave,
                                     adorned in the finest
                                         jewels nature had
   to offer, naked
but for his sympathy.

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