An Ode to Folly

I hung a bough on yesteryear

I preached in rooms of folly.

And from loquacious

Sounds ring frazzled

Hearts too drunk, too jolly.

She stumbled in her laughing tears

Threw fits like entertainment

They crowded round the good ol’ show

I wept alone on pavement.

Is any of it real? I cried,

A sacred place still left?

The ancient path is well worn over,

Soul roots lie bereft…

And so, we set out in performance.

Painting faces, clearing throats,

Echoing our empty praises,

Reveling only in these lethal gloats.