--- The Fungus to the Dying Man Give, take, give, take You have taken and you have given for years Give, take, give, giving, given, And now I find you here, giving once again One final time I can see the faint light of a life well lived in your eyes As you lay before me, limp, losing heat Lay your body in soil, boy Let me care for your tender flesh the way you have so lovingly cared for mine Graciously lie, put ease on your bones So that I may pick them clean with my roots ever so carefully I will build my home with your decomposition Generations of my loved ones will reside with you and keep you company Your life will not be forgotten as it is imprinted into the ebb and flow of nature I can hear you so desperately whisper into the air “If I am dying, then by God, make it quick.” Swiftness shall bless you, and I shall conceal you From the ravenous jaws of death, frothing and foaming in starvation Give Me your presence and I shall Give You a place to rest once and for all, boy, I shall Give You solace and safety in mycelium and grubs for eternity.
