You might grip me
you might rip me
you might kick me with your boots
You can deploy me
you can destroy me
but you'll often miss my roots.
Nomatter the scurge of man
I will fight with all I can
to seed my seed and wreck his plan
He may invade me
and he may trade me
as every piece of refuge burns
He can cut and bore me
can department store me
whilest Gaya's logic he just spurns.
Time will be my great revealing
of so much of me he's stealing
in his nature quest of double dealing.
(c) ZYDHA HART 2007