Ashes of human wisdom
Sit smoking in the barrel
Charred remains of empty praise
Smolder in the rusted drum
No burial rite or missive
Spoken over the remains
Once greatly valued
Now fodder for the flames
There is more to throw on the pile
Offerings of both the ordinary and profane
So swing the ax at the insidious tree
Growing in parasitic bliss
Toss the mundane and unholy
Timber and root
Onto the consuming fire
Watch as a wheat field grows
Where thorns and thistles 
Once choked out hope

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