This is to the one climbing the tree:
there will come a time little monkey
when the jungle will become too wild,
and your inner child will be to blame.
Obsidian claws don’t play a fair game;
they lurk at night for a beguiled child
to cross their path, wicked and hungry,
leaving nothing but remnants of debris.
So you see my little monkey—
stay hidden in the valley of trees,
lest the night beast will have smiled
upon your most precious name.