A rot to the roots of what holds us down
that stems from the light from which we all feed.
Burning above us like a short lived crown,
our hunger enslaves us to practice the deed.
But the light that we seek is born in the dark
and so the present shine is never whole,
thus the decay sets in the deepest of bark,
withering all life and claiming its soul.
I endeavour to plant seeds new and pure
that are fresh but pay homage to the past.
A fresh spurt of growth can be rotting's cure
and can make more beauty, forever to last.
These old gardens are torn, tried and tired;
it is time for old roots to be rewired.
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