The ancient gods were silenced while they slept
Beneath the earth by sorceries as old
As standing stones; the sacred charms we kept
Mere trinkets now. The blacksmith’s forge grew cold,
His magic metals shelved, the monsters tamed,
Transformed by Darwin’s pen; the thrones of kings
Exchanged for boardroom seats; brave deeds once claimed
Heroic now seem unimpressive things.
Something special left the world. We traded
Thread for string, faith for quantum foam.
What music speaks when all the songs have faded,
When roads we walk lead everywhere but home?
We gather, but remain alone; the night
A dream too dark to show us wrong from right.
© 2017 William Keller