we're cursed to find our end within the ground

we're cursed to find our end within the ground,
beneath the feet of others living on,
the tree that won't produce good fruit's cut down,

coincidence, that sunny skies seem bound
to anyone but us, as they go on?
we're cursed to find our end within the ground,

where we no more will taste a light or sound,
for there will no more be another spawn,
the tree that won't produce good fruit's cut down

are we pariahs in our cosmic town,
that we deserve to vanish by the dawn?
we're cursed to find our end within the ground,

where one by one increasing we are found,
forgotten with the growing of the lawn,
the tree that won't produce good fruit's cut down

what have we done, that Reaper's swings abound,
to cut us one by one till we be none?
we're cursed to find our end within the ground,
the tree that won't produce good fruit's cut down

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos