Twilight Of The Idols Poem by DM W

The end of it all:
The Twilight of the Idols:
No communion,
Just constant, crude palaver;
No pure, silent ways,
Just the din of distraction;
No real vocations,
Just virtual shadow plays;
No hymns to beauty,
Just prosaic, secular songs;
No wise offerings,
Just tainted information;
No Love undying
Only quick fix solutions;
No verdant Nature,
Only decadent designs;
No sacred centre,
Only things falling apart;
No flowered futures,
Only the tolling of bells;
No life- force renewed,
Only bleak treadmill of days
And hollow beliefs:
The Twilight of the Idols.