The Dryad and The Tree

Harken! Black heart of the forest am I,
Gentle Gaia as if violated by shoots,
Branches like the wings of a vulture,
I teem with most succulent fruits.

I prowl my realm without movement,
Branches hypnotically sway,
Intruders beware, take utmost care,
Seldom does one get away.

We live by strange symbiosis,
She nestles deep, dreaming wild,
She feeds by magic's osmosis,
I'm so dark with pride in my child.

Men are fools to their hunger,
Filled with avarice and need,
Choosing most succulent fruit,
They fall prey to my low-hanging seed.

My seed hides potent dark mystery,
And surrendering unto my slumber,
Roots then entwine, my bounty divine,
Joining those who rest without number.

The night brings new life to my Dryad,
Emerging from my darkened soul.
She ravens amongst those who slumber,
A most sentient overripe bowl.

Returning once more to my bosom,
The welcoming core of my tree,
Once again I sustain her,
In turn, she will now sustain me.

She wasn't always my child,
My beloved sister was she,
When her cold iron dared touch my skin,
She will never, I swore, be set free.

My flies in slumberous amber
Lie silent, their bodies inert.
Crushing terror much improves flavour,
Though immobile, they're completely alert.

She wasn't always my child,
My beloved sister was she,
When her cold iron dared touch my skin,
She will never, I swore, be set free.