The halls are empty, the lots are bare.
Yet robes are draped on men in despair.
The pillars of power with trifles to do.
The people suspect that its power’s not true.
Not many call on these pillars today.
Yet many need help, what does this say?
Did people lose trust in these institutions?
Marvels once made to uphold constitutions?
Moments arrived, and ownership failed.
Things don’t feel right, and vacuums prevail.
Voids far and wide are filling with smut.
A populi dormiens – no will to rebut.
Guards are still punching the clocks every day.
With nothing to guard but another day’s pay.
They look into space as creatures pass by.
They feel somewhat lost but cannot say why.
The purpose has changed, it’s heard in their diction.
Reluctantly present to uphold a fiction.
A fiction that covers for rot and decay.
A means of concealment with plastic displays.
Displaying the image that needs to be shown.
As reality drifts into the unknown.
© 2021 TheRememberings Ltd.