The Majestic Halls Of Silence
years and years tradition marked these halls
with the power of its own silence, not a dropp of needle is heard here.
there is this black robe with velvet ropes
there is this hat of the academe
there is this discipline that outlasts lives of men
suddenly, all these are engulfed by the conspiracy of the minds
in protecting the house with a clean and white fainted facade
the interiors have not become well tended
a faulty wiring that may cause the fire soon
infested walls, termite territory this has become
no one, no one, expects the crumpling of the structure
one day all will be gone
who fiddles when the fire begins?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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