old oak

i feel like an old oak and sensations are pointing at me my prosperous age of a thousand year. my stem is stiff and i can ample wave with the wind. my roots are cold almost frozen. it is difficult to soak the frozen water in my roots. my bark is dried out and loosening. it is easy for the woodpeckers to dig a hole in my old skin and i realize that their outcome will be my last contribution to the welfare of the forest. the head of my crown is almost without any hair, most of them leaves my boughs by the strong windy weather. the raindrops falling on my head are transformed to tears, that leaves the leafs of my old trunk to translate my sorrow and concerning for the forest. will i enjoy the twittering of the birds on my branches next years? or will the fungus show mercy and helps me to contribute for the last time? is it forbidden to pray for a fast solution by the hand of the sawing machine of the forester?