The Oaken Throne
Empyrium
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Within the mist
The arms entwined
By moons enshrined
And softly kissed
The boughs so old
With leaves of gold
In autumns cloak
The endless oak
Deep within the forest's heart
The oaken throne
An ancient soul, a wooden guard
The tree of old
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Centuries have seen its rise
Years thousandfold
It reigns upright, without demise
The oaken throne
Roots that touch the fire
Of the earthen core
A crown that rose so tall
To where the eagles soar
Seat of kings alone
The oaken throne
Wisdom has been sown
The oaken throne