From ancient groves where shadows lie,
Nature's Prophet calls, a thunderous cry.
With whispered winds and a flick of his hand,
The Ironwood rises to heed his command.

With gnarled limbs and bark like stone,
It marches forth, a creature alone.
To towers high, its path is clear,
With every strike, it sows the fear.

Roots entwined, it rends the earth,
A force of nature, a tale of rebirth.
As time unfolds, its power grows,
With each fallen tower, its strength bestows.

A dread awakens, the forest's breath,
The Ironwood brings forth untimely death.
In shadow and twilight, its fury will soar,
Nature's vengeance unleashed, forevermore.