Inspiration?

You lived in the age of Empires, both real and ideal,

But Rome and Byzantium fell to ruin by fire;

Their ashes are a memory we no longer feel.

Disbelief has rendered mute your revelations of the divine.

In time it will not matter, for now silence whispers lies.

Youth once sought you in the wisdom of the ages

Today they can't be bothered turning pages

And instead of heeding those who heralded your virtues,

We send them off to die.

Why not? They will not yield your tales to their children anymore.

You were rich in Love when Love was treasured still.

Now Love lies down for lust and lures not worth a lover's skill.

Yet the truest hearts remain outbid in their affection

In a world where everyone is wooing their own reflection

And bankrupt Love has failed to make good its past collection.

Your last refuge lies in nature.

Nature lies in need

Of nurture, love, or holiness to water nature's seed.

Where has Inspiration gone?

Why have poets ceased to write?

Their memories scrawled on subway walls,

Lost in tired faces,

They've vanished in the night in search of meaning in these spaces.