The Mighty Will Fall


That once mighty oak, rigid and strong
Its core quite cold, though winter's long gone
It's root lie helpless, withered and dry
It's limbs become tinder, as the countless sparks fly.
An empty husk of an ageless masterpiece
Yet after many long years, it's grip did release.
The test of time, in the end all will fail
The strength of ones will, becomes weak and frail.
Fighting ever onwards, we strive to survive
Yet all is for naught, even the mighty must die.

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