The Whispering Oak

Beneath the oak
Where shadows creep
A thousand years
The roots run deep
The moss
It clings
The bark
It speaks
In tongues of winds and ancient peaks

Whispering oak
What tales you weave
Through autumn's gold and summer's green
A voice that hums in the stillest night
Guiding lost souls by moon's pale light

The branches twist
Like fingers cold
Grasping truths too dark
Too old
In her arms
The moon is caught
A cradle for the dreams forgot

Is it fate
Or just the breeze
A hymn to gods we cannot see

Whispering oak
What tales you weave
Through autumn's gold and summer's green
A voice that hums in the stillest night
Guiding lost souls by moon's pale light

A raven perched
Its feathers black
The secrets whispered
No turning back
The oak stands tall
Through storm and flame
A witness carved with every name