Poetry Cannot Change The Scheme Of Things

I stand in the liquid light by the water's edge; Wondering what's happened to my childhood dreams. So far I've built my life on poetry. Yet it seems As though I've raised nothing but a house of sand I thought that I could heal our contaminated consciousness. With radiant, transcendent words But I have been rather naïve It seems. I didn't take into account People's desire to dwell simply in shadows. Some say that art is the proper task of life That might be the case. But to do it right, You have to adapt to the conditions Imposed by rampant post modernity. Or live in a state of permanent exile, While others shut their eyes to truth and prosper.