The Fungus Knows
Pervading the dark and gloomy loam, creeping tendrils seek contact with the unknown, but not unknowable. They grope about and sculpt the soil, forming passageways between the trees; fermenting slowly, freeing nitrogen and phosphorous from inorganic chains - to their alien neighbors, offering exchange of substance for sustenance warmth, and nourishment lacing their roots, soothing their moods; harsh circumstances circumvented for the sapling supplicants supported by severe, distant, but not unkind, unyielding kin. The sly, sacred vows of mycelial brethren - their unseen sins
Buried beneath mountains, their skeletons remain, the bioaccumulation of metals and minerals their literal literal veins of (y)ore how often Language knows the truth, before the talkers do. De-composition, Anna-lysis, digesting the litter-ature of Nature; poring over ev'ry word and frays ev'ry frame and domain with fervid enzymatic patience: gnawledge catalyzing growth under-standing sharing nuggets of wisdom with their lignant hosts mulling evolution's plunder fur-mentation a fine bargain you've made there, Faust, I wonder, was that cordyceps, or core deceptions, your careless hunger, poor reflection of fungal intentions; or is it true? zombiefiers climbin' higher, fractal, branch in veins, then brains your no-longer-boring sporing pouring forth conceptions caught upon the sharpening winds honed by the chills of the North feigned ignorance of the keys to other kingdoms, slip casualties casually between sugarplum-fairy puffball-daemon schemin' haunting plants, then insects, then mammals, then men, in their gleamin' borg dreams of Unity, all in service to one common being You
see, with your psychedelics coursing through me teaching their fizz-domme I hear them talking is it true? I see chemical signaling, warfare, and deceit winds whispering their treasons through the leaves carrying that propyl ghandi propaganda, extirpate it with terpene tantrums their old and dead, to them abandoned. Trees, son.
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