A Bird in Your Hand (Poem)

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A bird in your hand is worth three in a tree
The burden of man is an imperial decree

Cast down upon the lowly
The tree withers with blight

The lowly see the tree as hope
But the avid see all as trite

One form of trite gives way to another
But the new form of trite leads all forms to blunder

Blunder across the land leaves no room trees
And a treeless isolation breeds new formed disease

Disease of the mind
Disease of the heart

Disease that will multiply
Til death do us part

The only real cure for this plague is the bird
The absence of trees means that life has deterred

But the absence of life leaves no room for the bird

For without that bird
All hope is forsaken

The bird stands for peace
But its life has been taken

A bird in your hand is like the greed of man
Like the man who lost all when he built his house on sand

But the birds in the tree
Equals peace in across the land

Without that bird
No Man can stand

And we will never see peace
With that bird in your hand

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