Imagination Remains

The kings and queens of willful destruction
carry burning scythes in their hands,
reaping where they did not sow.

Each blesses the other as the other
squashes fruits grown by others.

Expectations lower for the in-crowd.

Those thrown out of the concocted garden
know only the misery of the absence of love.

While the culture of artifice and pretense and posturing
demands acquiescence with thundering crescendos,
another voice, even though all looks grim, 
sings a simple melody, heard only when the waters calm.

There may not be grapes on the vine today
but the landscape of imagination remains.