Dross 

There is nothing you can again anymore say 

in relief of blank stares across fields, forests, seas 

that ought sate or thwart the deadly 

whims of a denialing race, 

or disconcert the misplaced pride 

of crimes 

that longwinded tribes 

of goldseekers sought. 

To this very day treasure's pursuit at expense of good of will 

confines the ugliness of earth to steadfast surface hearts 

who water dross tinsel soils 

with trinkets of their loss through toil.