A cry of war; The call of the Crow; He is coming; They whisper
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Epic of the Trees I walk in the woods It’s cool and dark Green speckled light Flourishing life Randomness Away from order More beautiful than Straight lines Sadness fills me The forest has lost Those great giants killed The disease Industry Humans with axes Saws killing and burning Black smoke Only copies remain Those great giants dead Only small ones left To survive They strive On the sterile edge A few places left Only wild Forced to obey us No break from genocide Forgotten places Left alone A few strive for the coming battle When industry returns To destroy them all The end *** I walk in the woods A vision comes The future revealed The wasteland The forest is gone The wasteland begins Hellish desert Choking sand The wind begins Sand burns my eyes Poisonous air Can’t breath The vision gone Woods return I walk again Further deeper Hopelessness remains At the end Hatred consuming The trees The trees rise Power of Nature Cannot stop them The future A cry of war The call of the Crow He is coming They whisper He is coming He is coming A frigid breeze A nameless fear Coming Coming *** I walk in the woods Feeling it The all consuming hate Worlds end A dark wind The coming end Of us Not them Bright forest darkens The World Withers The fear begins Within me I cannot go further I cannot go back Stuck in place Terror comes The trees groan A whisper far away The call of the Crow Coming War They close in Around me Echoes of night Can’t move He is coming The whisper fills the woods He is coming Echoed death Another whisper Of concern Run run run Silent breeze I RUN! |