The Forest King

Roots bury far, fast and free,

A sturdy foundation to settle the tree,

Its oak bound trunk thickens and grows,

Leafs surround it, with sunlight they glow

 

The tree it rises, further still,

It begins to take charge as its branches fill,

Birds, squirrels, woodlice and all,

Seek shelter in its proud body so tall

 

Centuries pass, the tree grows wise,

There is no other nature may let surmise,

Its future is set, to grow old and true,

A visage of natures power through and through

 

But shortly after man comes about,

Filling the hills with their warlike shout,

The tree cares not, there’s no fear there,

The men they are tiny, this glade they may share

 

And so all is well, for quite some time,

The tree grows on, in nature divine,

But soon man learns of language and skill,

And shortly after its blood they must spill

 

The tree grows wearisome of this discontent,

For it is on its soil their corpses ferment,

But it carries on, grows larger still,

For its thick bark no sword could kill

 

But man continues its evolution,

Governments grow in convolution,

The tree governed all, when all was fair,

Now man adorns the high backed chair

 

The years then pass and industry grows,

And trees fall to fire in their rows,

The forest king grows alarmed as smoke,

Does cause its inhabitants to squirm and choke

 

Soon comes the day it is its turn,

The proud ancient oak must also burn,

Its branches are hacked, strewn, cut off,

The powerful trunk now stands bare aloft

 

In little time the saws cut deep,

through millennia of work nature ought to keep,

The tree stands tall, one last time,

before man commits his most fatal crime.