But if a plant is torn from its place, then that place rejects it and says, ‘I never saw you.’
but they will be gone forever, like their own dung. People who knew them will say, ‘Where are they?’
Those who saw them will not see them again; the places where they lived will see them no more.
They will never come back to their houses again, and their places will not know them anymore.
Those who see me now will see me no more; you will look for me, but I will be gone.
They wrap their roots around a pile of rocks and look for a place among the stones.
After the wind blows, the flower is gone, and there is no sign of where it was.
In a little while the wicked will be no more. You may look for them, but they will be gone.
But he died and was gone; I looked for him, but he couldn’t be found.
Wicked people grow like the grass. Evil people seem to do well, but they will be destroyed forever.