Chop the Trees

Chop the trees
Plant the seeds,
Do it again before you leave
But will you ever outgrow your chopping spree?
This land laid low
A million acres
Cleared with malice
Before you entered your lord’s palace
And tried to plant
Tried to repent
With puny seedling
Worth a cent
And some may
grow to fabulous and ancient heights.
But most will crumble beneath new boots.
Can your repetence make right the railroads, trundling over bleeding rocks?