The Laughing Tree

A poem about nameless corruption in a forest.

Nestled coldly in the tree trunk, they laugh and laugh

Within a mottled oak husk, they teem with fevered wrath.

Malignant and clustering, churning and blustering.

Untouched by the warming sun, they laugh and laugh.

 

Madness incarnate, silencing the music of birds

Beings of the stranger make, beyond simple words

Told in myth and folklore, attempts to understand more.

Feeding on the life of the woods, they laugh and laugh.

 

In such a calm and loving forest, peace hastily flees

They don’t belong here, yet nature agrees.

Worse than bees or ants, they gather, swarming with glee

Within the ancient oak of this withering tree.

 

Mad and full of glory, smoking and burling.

Choking and swirling, they wait for trespassers

Their rage is unfurling.

This dappled forest nurtures what is wild and free

Yet also cultivates the evil that lives inside the tree.

 

Alive impossible, festering and feeding

Oblivious to the sounds of rightness seeding.

Black and billowing,

Chaos breeding.

They do not see the universe weeding.

 

Eaten and destroyed, consumed and cloyed

The tree falls down with the things of the void

Back to where they came from, they go, filled with wrath

In their home, the darkness, they laugh and laugh.

The End

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