Matters

From the grave he's torn, the cow was milked and adored, from her womb he's born, her sister is barren and forlorned. Deep is his mother's sorrow, long ago before his tomorrows, forgotten from, the one called son. Twisted his roots they grew, well watered and spewed, dig, dig, dig, those dirty shrews. She ponders in silence, there is no alliance, their skillful contrivance, assisted by her connivance . I hear what they all say, you see what they all do, then one day, there's no more memories of you.