The word spread,

The people whispering and muttering

They felt as if they were going to be struck dead

Along with the forests- there would be no more gently fluttering

leaves, no more soft dappled light

In a grove that sang out in tones of Home

For they'd heard he meant to overtake it to achieve his sight,

To build a factory drenched in the carcass of the creatures that roamed

The forest would be cleared

It was inevitable- after all, that's what he said

And his word was law, for he was respected and feared

But perhaps... perhaps there was a way to sustain its Life's Thread