Revisionist Poetry – “Mycelial Dominion” – Colonizing Decay, v.2

Beneath the canopy’s green hush,
a secret country labours in the dark.
What seems still is only waiting;
what seems dead is already opening,
thread by thread beneath the bark.

Fungus arrives without alarm,
a patient grammar written in white filaments,
finding its way through splinter, seam, and wound,
speaking softly to the wood
until the wood begins to answer.

Here, the forest keeps its hidden commerce:
roots, rot, moisture, spores,
the slow exchange between falling and becoming.
No single thing stays fixed for long.
Even the fallen trunk
is busy with its own inheritance.

And we, uneasy witnesses,
stand where shadow deepens into knowledge,
watching as the lowly and the luminous
meet in one perpetual making—
a world not ruined by decay,
but remade by it.