Vignette

How many words do I see?
Master poets lose themselves in the din.
Fortune's wheel
Turn to formulaes 
Of money, markets
And robotic algorithms
Of buzzing hashtags.

It is not a fun game;
I do not enjoy it.
I do not enjoy trying to find out
What the masses want to hear
And telling it to them.
Truth is my unicorn.
And when none believe in it---
A thousand songs are sung
But noone truly listens.

The Skalds sing of the virtue of silence.
Of wit, and those who have it;
If you do not, to stay silent.
For speaking out of turn is foolish.
Yet, that silence---
It is all I can think about now.
To listen---
But it's hard because so few have aught to say.

There are a thousand poets in my eye---
I unravel the scroll.
Is it beautiful?
Or is it the song of the modern age?
All wishing to have their say---
Yet none saying.