Lament of the Dryads

The ancient oak stands tall, Boughs twisted and broken, A partnership since time began, Respectful, Deep, Unspoken, Deep underground, Winding, dense and intertwined, Root and mycelial network, Conspire to give each other life, The Fruiting Body, Spores unleashed, The Dryads sing their song, A lament for the decaying world, But hope for birth to come, The last leaf falls, Above the ground, All looks lost, Yet beneath the surface, The dance continues evermore, Until the Earth is burned.