Rebirth

Fall do they now, the weak and infirm,
Fall to the ground, a feast fit for worms,
Buried by their kin, the kind who squirmed.

Yet fear not the teeth, who eat their fill,
For only the failures do they kill,
Leaving for the rest wisdom, as it will.

Seek 'mong ashes, and you will find
The treasures of ruin, stripped, behind,
Ready to breed no more of their kind.

And from the dirt grows the seed,
Making darkness flee, treed:
A hope every broken heart needs.