The Oak

Things die.

The Oak

Like a burning idea which comes from within
From a miniscule acorn doth the great oak begin
Taking hold in the firma to reach for the sky
Though obstructed, this dream is surely to fly
And nourishment comes with the sun and the rain
Like that tiny idea which is fed in the brain
With its roots set in place it pops up from below
Now unobstructed, the dream is ready to grow
Like the spoken idea, expressed, written down
The mighty oak is now free to spread beauty around
From inception it fought and its roots are now strong
Unobstructed, its dream moves ever along
Though an endless struggle to survive day and night
The mighty oak never falters, never gives up the fight
Spreading regally out from atop a great hill
Unobstructed, the dream grows strong ever still
Continually growing as the decades do pass
Like that tiny idea now spread class to class
Alone in its glory, its beauty, its might
Unobstructed, it forgets life is not without plight
An inevitable danger, a cancer now lurks
And threatens the beauty of the dream's endless works
Silently growing, it's a murderous thief
An obstruction, the oak now abandons its leaf
Its strength is now waning, its beauty has passed
The dream is now dying, the end has been cast
Like that tiny idea now gone in its day
Obstructed, the great oak now goes away.

© Sean Wilford 2013