Things Are Now Worsening

Shadows consume the sun As it fades behind these trees. Eternity bows Down to relativism, In diminished times. O true forms cannot seem to Be distinguished from That which is merely cant and Vanity! There is Too much noise here to pray or Meditate. There is No hope of a miracle, Emerging in spring, Like snow white blossomed magic. The symbolic light Is merely a candle flame, Briefly resisting Darkness. The wise, ancient ways Are now in ruins There is only desperate Grasps at crude, tribal Longings via icons, flags, T-shirts or other Cut price souvenirs. Garish neon signs Flood life's endless, dead -end streets. In the midst of this Confusion. I try my best To compose something Of worth. Alas, Time is not On my side it seems; Neither is circumstance.