We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. – Oscar Wilde

After the money
Has changed hands
Puppet of fantasy
To what silent place
Do you retreat?
On the street
They snugger and stare
Behind closed doors
They come in despair
To have fears
Cleansed in tears
As you walk that twisted street
Head turned to the sky
Many admire you

Your temple desecrated
All ruin and decay
Yet in that compost
Heap of the heart
A tiny seed struggles
With the earth:
One tenuous shoot
Reaches for the stars.