Garden of Nede (sonnet)

Behind the veil they nibbled at the core
A plague upon the garden of their youth
The rotten fruit upon the jungle floor
The buzzing sound of lies became their truth

A gardener would vow to put things right
With calloused hands and caring he would start
Hysterical, they gathered all their might
And swore he worshipped darkness in his heart

He labored to restore the wondrous gift
Abundance then returned upon the land
The helpless and the hopeless he would lift
And all the while the evil-doers planned

They bore him down to lie among the fruit
An unmarked grave for he who dared defy
A sickness that would wither every root
And blindness that afflicted every eye

They always felt compelled to seize control
The Hollow Men* – devoid of any soul


* see the poem of the same name by Thomas Stearns Eliot - cheers! - Dan