The Lumberjack

The root of evil,
Though darkly knotted,
With guilt unforgettable,
Traces still to Yggdrasil.
The colorless earth that surrounds,
Aqueducts of sin,
And a subterannean sun-furnace alike,
Has no sight to weigh,
This against that
(Still, light comes first, while the hidden tree-feet come second,
As is the natural way)
Our Mother holds tight,
Onto each child that reaches into her,
Deep and shallow,
Searching for any form of solace;
She will not turn them away.
Our brothers and sisters,
The company of our existence,
Can find no place among us,
If they choose this skin rather than ours,
Because our eyes cannot trace the earthen route,
That has been taken by that evil root.
Set down your steady axe, Lumberjack,
Lest you level a path through the forest,
That we cannot undo
For no natural root can carry the sharp evil of our world,
The only hand that can hold such a blade is that,
Of a certain Lumberjack.

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