Oak’s Challenge

Oak’s the name, and stillness my game,
so make your moves, but it's all the same.
Come closer, now, don’t be shy—
touch the path with slippered feet, give it a try.

You make your noise, you disturb my peace,
but the debt you owe will never cease.
A fine must be paid, just wait and see—
for every ripple, there’s a fee.

“What’s that you say? The beauty of it all?”
Step a little closer, heed the call.
Let’s see if your words hold true—
if beauty’s enough to save you.

For beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
but my gaze is hard, my branches colder.
You’ve destroyed what you do not see,
yet here you are, claiming you’re free.

Claim your ignorance, make your protests,
but the stillness will judge, and you’ll be pressed.
The roots run deep, the ground won’t lie—
you’ve come to disturb, now face the why.

Still you shall be, and still it remains—
the reckoning that follows, the price of your games.
For in the end, it’s not beauty that will save,
but the truth you bury, the path you pave.

So dance in the shadows, make your commotion,
but remember, Oak stands with deep devotion.
A witness to your fleeting play,
a guardian of what you’ve thrown away.

Now make your move, come touch the bark—
and see if you can weather the dark.
For the Oak is patient, strong, and wise,
holding you to account, beneath the skies.