A garden grows this darkened wood
shade by ancient Oak
clouds be thick
dirt be moist
where breath of Sunlight choke
plentiful the plant does grow
in pitch of night it feed
on onion root and wayward toad
this plant of human seed
cloned and honed to grow as wheat
what science has begun
hide away these darkened wood
should mother's soldiers run
with fires racing cross the open
seizures of this land
our dna from yesterday
shall rise from death of man