Rustling Leaves Poem by felix paintwhenpainted

from lightless dirt support the roots
mirrored in the sky by branching shoots
water tugged from deepest holes
wrapped up into wooden folds
brilliant green shoots the eye
as from its pits life lets fly

But even as it thickens and slowly grows
and plump fruit hangs from its ancient bows
soon all life must wayne as it did wax
as on its flesh strikes simple axe
for in its life of simple beliefs
all it spoke was rustling leaves

from this steel it will not fight
for its end is fortol and must be right
in its mind it wonders if it was wrong
was it ever worth it to be strong?
would being weak have been much of a saviour?
or just a different road to total failure?

perhaps it would've been burnt in a raging fire
and silently screamed in pain as the situation got dire
maybe eaten by a hungry moss
or crushed in a freezing frost

it slightly wishes it was taken by old age
or even by another green leaved renegade
the stinging blade drips fresh with sacred sap
as the gnarled tree takes its very first nap