POEM: Sacred & Profane

In that landscape people see the
sacred and the profane.
Under the thickest canopy,
they think the wild – insane.

In the bucolic glade, they think
the old saints of the soil.
It’s a scheme that’s clean and clear-cut —
except those are false foils.

If people do chase the sacred,
its uncharted country
is more likely where feet fear tread
than the hill with one tree.

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