“With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones,”—W.B. Yeats

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wisdom is silenced behind sterile walls
while entertaining the reaper’s minions
attended by strangers with vapid intentions
sedated, benumbed by cruel inattention

wisdom is hidden ‘neath thin sheets of flesh
draped loosely on frames of sinew and bone
dull synapsed grey matter turning slowly to stone
pebbles of acumen dribbled softly in moans

wisdom remembers the lessons of youth
often repeating her tales of the past
the din of tweets twittering, rife media blasts
soon drown out her treasure, precious pearls vainly cast

wisdom is lingering, time’s running short
fools claim she’s crazy; that they can’t relate
in fluorescent lit hallways she patiently waits
one day they might miss her, but it will be too late

~kat
For Jane Dougherty’s “A Month with Yeats” poetry challenge – Day 3. I don’t know what poetry form this is…rhyme scheme abbb-cddd-efff-ghhh, syllable count: 10-10-12-12, but it worked for my thoughts today. It was such an interesting quote to ponder as I sipped my jasmine tea. 🙂