under the canopy, seeing without seeing
whispers that do not beckon, yet echo deep
the heart of the forest is not beating nor is it still
fungi communion—murmurs of worlds unseen
breathe the damp air, rise, descend, twirling
shapes of light that do not exist, casting bonds
long shadows, stretches, unfurls asleep
enter the fungus, glide the mycelium carpet...
AN ODD HARMONY BENEATH THE SURFACE YET ABOVE THE EARTH
LIVING SILHOUETTES OF CRISP MORNINGS AN LISTLESS NIGHTS
HAVE YOU HEARD THE RHYTHM VIBRATING IN THE SLEEPING SOIL?