There lie the mushroom

By Max N

It is born at the mirrors edge

Where cold stone meets dead hedge

And the dust pools in acrid air

To mingle in the corpses’ lair

It starts so very small

As a tiny egg, an infinitesimal ball

Drifting through the sprawling void

To be planted by chance, in flesh destroyed

From the egg hatches a single root

Born humble and quiet, yet ever astute

For it bears a great duty to find rich ground

To branch, and dig, and journey unbound

Each arm is so delicate, so fierce

Wielding scalpel and spear to pierce

So it may turn skin to soil and glass to sand

In the many palms of its great hand

And in the most sublime heresy

It reaches into the cold infinity

And tricks the all consuming dark

to guide such alien life on the journey it dares embark

The shadow opens up and the bodies fall in

Blubber and bone plummet; oh the dead stand so thin

Knees buckle and bare sockets cry dusty tears

But hidden by the corpses’ final crashing fall are subtle cheers;

For now is the spores great victory

It has sired forth a mighty family tree

That’s roots have dug deep into dust, shadow and bone

So it may branch yet another adventuresome clone

Such a profound decay

Under the cloak of late day

Where the dark meets the dead

And the mirrors face is fed

There lie the mushroom