In Dark Dreams 49 Poem by DM W

In dark dreams, Love's idols are broken
And scattered across modern wastelands.
The churches and chapels are all empty,
As the old, weary gods and angels have fled.
No one seems to mourn the death
Of divine notions. These profligate pagans
Just go about their squalid days;
With nothing much of worth to say.
Today, all the talk revolves around how much,
Rather than the intrinsic value of things.
Is this an age that ushers in a new light
Or does it mark the end of life as we know it?

In dark dreams, I walk along cold, desolate beaches.
As I search desperately amongst grey rocks,
Coloured stones and shells for fragments
Of the precious life that I discarded so long ago.
Yet alas, I can find no rare pearls of wisdom;
Just the skulls and bones of obscure mammals
And other strange, yet insignificant debris;
That is constantly washed up on life's shores.
The waves are now frozen on the inky, black sea:
That eerily seems to mirror a myriad anxieties.
I wish I could glimpse a light in the heavens
But everything is shrouded in miasmal mists.