The great oak stands

tall and proud—

Its leaves 

rustle in the wind—

the roots below calling out

for more knowledge, more of the nectar of life—

 

The great oak does not bend

to petty pleas,

to red stained wings or other trees—

Its roots stay firmly planted in the ground

not making a sound or giving way—

 

The great oak stands

before a man

who would wish to cut it down—

He wants the knowledge the tree has earned

and uses an axe as his lowly weapon—

 

 The tree, though beaten and hacked

though ripped apart and stripped

though cut into small cylindrical parts,

remains firm—

Man may wish to throw the tree

into the fire of greed and desire,

seeking the knowledge of its roots

wanting the secret of its leaves—

but a tree is still a tree even after its many features are gone—

 

The great oak may fall to a blade of fools,

its branches may break off due to

the winds of time, but the oak is resilient—

The great oak stands 

tall and proud, 

for it has endured trials

and it has endured suffering,

and even though it may not look like it,

the oak is still a tree—

a tree that stands tall—