An Acorn, Swinging, Swaying in the breeze.
Careless, protected by the great oak.
Oblivious to the world below and beyond itself,
Until it’s ancient mother casts it off of her branches
And onto the hard ground from which she herself sprouted so long ago.
She does this not because she doesn’t care, but because she does, and she wants her child to grow.
But as the ground rushes up to meet him, the acorn doesn’t understand this, and the Majestic oak doesn’t expect him to.
Enjoyed the simple metaphor. The simplicity of the piece is why certain parts came across as too embellished; 'Majestic oak' would do fine as 'oak' and the capitalization is bothersome, there and in the first line. Also, it seemed you missed a good opportunity for rhyme in the second line, which I expected to end in 'great oak tree'. It would start it off in an easy fashion.

Summarily though it was simple, clear, and a pleasant read.
On the eight day we spoke back...

let there be sound.