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All the poets are gone

Beauty fades into
Non -descript  images

as people
Fade

Into the wars and to Death

•

All the poets have quit

They no more guard the passageways

Of pure consciousness
Moving unto trembling hearts

The vital essence
The singularity

It has been sold
For what amounts to
30 pieces of gold

••

The lonely child cries
He is all alone

He only lives

On some torn leaf

In some long forgotten poem

Or in the soul
Who has vowed to bring him home