Reclassification Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

Once poets chanted
epic tales,
dark rites.
A country's pride,
its glories past were kept
in verse,
not mega-bites,
So rituals, and
lineage would last.
A poet then was held
in high regard,
as custom keeper,
master of the school.
As worshiped as
a Prophet, Hero, Fool,
A place was kept in honor
for the Bard.
Consensus now determines
what is just,
as politicians cut and paste
the law.
The loud and fast
now manufacture awe
And lore's
on back-up files.
So work I must.
If only God
would ease my first complaint:
To live on
grace WITH substance,
like a saint.