Art Is Leaving Me

I wept, feeling
the sight of those ruined stones
– the ancient beauty
that shone out from them
simple, perfect, smiling

-deserted;
marred by the powerful dint of unreal time

Art is leaving me;
I feel it,
inventing the mystery
-pagan virtues;
whose darkness, gave

-fresh dimensions;
lending every surface the quality of depth

Smoothest path looks dangerous;
I feel it,
the awakening of creatures
-passerby;
leading a life of darkness

-the look inimitably enlarged
Art is leaving me.