Beneath the canopy where shadows play,
Two ancient trees stood firm, their branches high,
With roots entwined and leaves that kissed the day,
Their whispers blended with the forest's sigh.
Yet fate decreed that one would meet its end,
Its bark to feel the woodsman’s cruel blade,
While one would stand, its life allowed to blend,
With his eyes reflecting years of work and toil,
"My choice is not of malice, but of ways,
To honor both the forest and its soil.
Your friend, though strong, has weathered storms severe,
Its heartwood weak, its branches prone to break,
By felling it, I safeguard all that's here,
Ensuring health for every tree at stake.
You, steadfast oak, will stand to tell the tale,
Of how your friend in sacrifice did fall,
To save the woods from fate’s destructive gale,
And thus preserve the lives within this hall.
The forest breathes with balance hard and true,
A lesson learned through tears, from me to you."
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