OBLIVION
Shorn of bark, beset by whining winds,
Beleaguered boughs abandon pride
and cry;
Liquid embers torment anguished limbs,
Elixir turned to venom'd curse,
o' why?
Gleaning spears of light lay suff'ring siege
To harvests meant no more to live,
but die;
O' Earth, sweet Mother, blessings past bestow'd
Hath cross'd the glory of thy cause;
goodbye.