The tall majestic oak

Immortal, unmoving

Seeing all, seething all

Loathing moves through its veins


But moving shall it never know

Reaching out its stranglehold

Squeezing the essence from its woeful foe

Which lie below


Try it shall to cascade all

The middle of the circle

My comrade encompassed

The circle I migrated to each dusk

To commence plans of treason

Unto the humans

My comrade the oak in which I trust