As the giant elders whisper to themselves,
in their secret, silent, oaken tongue,
we pass only hearing the rustle of the fallen.
Their shadows keep us cool, alive.
Their kin share the same eloquence, beauty.
But ignorance leaves the beauty unnoticed.

If we were to just open our mind and see;
our feet would be cemented in the ground,
but our lives and souls would be free.
Her beauty lies everywhere. Like
the sun's true colors we seldom see.
For her beauty is not only seen: but felt.

Our world's serene scenes are rarely seen
for we never seem to search hard enough.