In the depths of our lumberjacks' hearts
lie the splintered spirits, echoing whispers of humbled trees.
Behold the majestic irony: costlier spirits lie within the bark,
and the epicenter, surely, is our local IKEA.
Legends speak of ethereal beings:
taxing tales of sap and sawdust
but yet here we are, navigating our saws
through a digital forest.
A flickering screen, an image of panic,
the wood spirit watches with unblinking eyes.
We hear them, echoing through the paradoxical air:
"Green is the new black," they say, in low resinous growls,
"And your carbon offsets? Mere pixie dust in the wind.”
Do you hear them? In the hushed silence of DIY projects,
while plywood whispers sacrilegiously,
on the flickering stage of a broken screen,
revealing the Epicenter() of your latest crisis is:wood.