Rumor has it

Rumor has it that the earthy branches,
Fallen victim to years of servitude,
have come to stand
resolute in denial.

In denial of humanity,
They've come to play,
Their roots igniting,
Setting flame to
Hopeless enterprises,
And bland pride.


For these are your ancestors
There, between reality, and
The degradation of myth.
Their trunks,
They are dwindling-
Once kind master
To the upheaval of nature.

Yet still,
Look here,
The past is present
In the rough bark,
Laden with
Feeding termites and battle wounds
From the economic slaughter.

Here they stand, supreme
Cold reminders
Of our mistaken truth