Out amidst my peers, my time, I seek value
But, alas, I find it in low supply.
Lies, shadows, destruction, death, defeat,
I only see these for our future.
Voices aged echoing in the ancient cathedrals,
Invariably drowned by our foul cacophony.
Only I pray that we build deserving cathedrals,
Not sully our plot with shattered debris and trampled roses.