The Omniscient Tree Poem by Pedram Navaie

Upon a mount where wolves do mourn and cry
A tree stands high beneath heaven's sky
Its bulk hugs scars from Tide's unyielding pry
Each recites a tale of moon and stars gone dry

Below the men of thought, suppose, do think
For truth their quests on truth's wobbling ink
And saintly men in shapes of faith, do sink
In sea where holy beads of fat deems link

Like buds in April's winds, their spits take flight
The sages and saints like dogs in horrid endless plight
Each seeking truth beneath dark and starry night
Yet blind to Gai's simple yet earnest light

In search of truth, mad grey men growl to skies
They lose themselves, and thus, my soul now flies