An Unknown Age of Art

It must have been prideful,

Opening shop in our little great city in an age of paper-filled knowledge.

Standing stern yet existing only where the common street urchins do.

Although you demanded, from each class and passing body, a great degree of respect

How sad times turn when a once thought prosperity is murdered by an invisible enemy,

An enemy neither created nor destroyed as that enemy is within the energies we've so foolishly granted control over our minds.

Take note, an unknown age of art has died today

You stood, while each momentarily momentous being whisked away your rightful spotlight

You'll stand no more, while these once cozy little streets give climb to new corporations

Markets change my friend, and albeit conceived in the believed ideas of longevity,

Your days of lecturing have come to an end.

That little bookshop on Abbey street