Shrine

Goodbye St. Nectan's Glen,
Pilgrim's Path to a Waterfall,
Water ripping down, and then
Gently lapping down, See all

Come by and gesture still -
This place could once recharge your soul.
Though offerings of rags and hills
of stones, leave just a tiny hole

Of regret, I feel a little mean,
A little loathing that tied tissues
and graffiti, well-intentioned, seen
with the natural rush, a misuse:

A massive missing en-masse.
A gratuitous graveyard of wishes.
Left rotting in the lifeless gasp
Of a sanctuary without fishes.