Fungi teach profound lessons
in their nearness to decay
highlight necessary redistribution
their whole being is sharing.
Their fruits are given
their capacity to live undetterred.
And in their thriving,
all other beings are nourished.
"What is the heart of this old monk like?
A gentle wind
Beneath the vast sky."
Would he say his body and mind were like
a tender mushroom
mycelium beneath the brush and bramble?
Inspired by Lamont Dozier - "Going Back To My Roots"
Not sure why I wrote a poem about fungi? Check this out this short video.