The world was waiting
In its immoral vigil
Shadows from the room
Caressing burning eyes
Utterance from lips
Which had kissed a genius.
She dresses in white robes
Knowing only love is a true martyr
And he she loved challenged Art
Etched upon her features
Her back to the light
Paupers plot without a marker.
Upon her humble throne
The room which had forgotten words
Weeps tears the world cannot see
Wise enough to know
They would be ignored or scorned
Like the man who inspired the