Art Versus Insularity

This old town is filled with ghosts & shadows. I'd rather leave and converse with flowers; Just listen to the trees and the grass grow. I'd like to tap into higher powers. And not be dragged down by trivial talk. It would be great to contemplate beauty Not routine greyness; step outside for walks Amidst Nature's endless, verdant bounties I'm sick of ape men and their weak women I'm so tired of merely passing time In a place that the world has forgotten I would like to create something sublime. That would illuminate prosaic pages That would survive the miasmal ages.