Shackle Unseen

A silhouette of a tree,

The shackles not seen.

Prisoners not foretold,

Known to be free.

 

Bound by their roots,

Because their ancestors did not see.

The successors wait,

For human industries wrath.

 

Silent songs of plea they sing,

Not heard over the drone of ignorance.

Memories they all whisper,

One’s they have seen.

 

Once a giant on it’s own feet,

Now an outline of defeat.

So strong it had been,

But a fallen tree is what I see.

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