How trying a deed it is to climb
Miles upon an elder oak
With weary limbs and bloodshot eyes
Fighting towards no finish

The roots loose their vigor
Age wins its battle
The branches quiver in their weakness
The leaves cloud the sun

And yet, in the silence
Sweat drips the bark
With splintered nail and corroded brow
The shameless climb continues

And at that point of futile submission
The leaves clear away
The roots grab hold of the nourished soil
And still the battle rages

For just as the peak is reached
The roots loose hold
The branches shake no more
And the sun is seen no longer