O withered humanity,
you were once like a tree standing tall and lush with green.
Your fruits were made pure and good to eat.
Made as you were meant to be,
until your branches began to rot
as your roots have re-established in shifty ground.

Your leaves have become brown,
and one by one they are falling down.
Your fruits are eaten through by the worms of err,
and the seasons of centuries have become a blur.

But a tree planted by the rivers of water will bear much fruit in all seasons.
Yea, there is great hope in this wisdom.