Life's Strange Procession Poem by DM W

Life's strange procession moves on,
Although the flowers have withered
And the great fountain is shattered.
Praise to all the Prophets now gone.

New, sun-kissed clowns come out to play,
Yet Love lies wounded in the shade.
We‘re bound by Power's rusted chains.
We must break free; and seize the day.

The artists pour out their lifeblood,
While gold plated Neanderthals,
Boast of billion dollar deals.
How soon the Fire & the Flood?