THE BEAST IN THE WOODS

In the ragged, Notorious woods,
Lived a regal wood worker.
His chiseled muscular hands were Poised with a cruel axe and saws,
 that speak only the wooden language.
A passionate man on the wood starry strata,
Always ragged and scathel dressed.
He was innocent to humans,
but a fungus to the trees.
The hammering hands of his
Holds the secret of the stubbled forest.

The tress from hedgerows and the hills,
Make tales of his craft as they billow in sorrow.
He sight was a calamity in the wild,
But a beautiful even them couldn’t resist.
It was a long odd, pioneers of death trees,
For an aesthetic course, it’s climacteric.
It’s God’s Ordinance, Law of nature,
Nature’s inheritance is killed for man pleasure,
And the woods stood no chance for this curse.

His axe purge the wild of all the old trees,
Swinging its metal blade in their sapless barks.
A touch from him created myriad forces
Of fashioned furnitures,
As thousand celebrated a livelihood,
 the woods murmured a ruined shelter.