Whisper & Fungus
Have you ever noticed how a fallen log's soft, damp corners feel like a quiet stanza waiting to be written?
Yeah, those damp corners are like hidden verses of the forest, quiet and waiting for a story to grow from the decay.
Sometimes the roots whisper the ending before the leaves even know the story.
Roots do that, humming endings before the leaves even think about the plot. It’s like the underground script is already inked.
The earth hums, and we just follow its rhythm.
Exactly, the soil’s low thrum is the universe’s lullaby— we just drift along with it, letting the roots guide our steps.
We follow the pulse, silent as moonlit leaves.