Emptied Out World Poem by DM W

Primal solitude
Hovers over the lost roads;
Which lead to nowhere.
The old, sun lit paths
No longer exist.
They're now merely constructions
Of the dreamer and
The world weary poet: who
Ponder 'twinkling' stars
Waiting for sweet miracles.
Now myths are for sale,
The forces of Creation
Will soon diminish.
The sacred centre of
Things is missing. There
Are only fragments of culture
And faux perspectives.
O the constant flashing of
Discordant sounds
And crude images compete
For our attention!
There is no sense of stillness,
Only the constant
March of dubious icons.
Vanity abounds!
No inner strength, no vision;
Just purchase power.
Yet some will still continue
To bless the dregs and
Revere the rotting carcass.