Et Cetera, et cetera

Standard

Please,

Spare me the details,

Your verbosity,

Will only derail,

The course of the story.

Your memory will fail,

Halfway through the tale,

And it will all be gone with the wind.

In it’s place: an awkward laugh,

A mystified grumble,

Or even a comment about how old you’re getting.

You’ll wonder why your memory lapsed,

Though this is mere curiosity,

As you free-fall down the rabbit hole,

Stroking your chin,

At terminal velocity.

Eyes to the heavens,

You’ll see,

The entrance to the chasm,

Shrink,

Until,

It becomes a twinkling,

North Star,

Imposter.

Mycelium

Image

The mushroom,

As it is known,

Is the tip of the fungal iceberg,

So to speak.

Beneath the fruiting body,

In the crux,

Is an interconnected,

Root and chute structure,

That undergirds,

The organism.

An unseen web,

Of white matter,

That provides a foundation.

A loose, scattered scaffold,

That aids the fungus in digestion.

In a superficially cerebral way,

Think of it like this:

The white matter,

In your brain,

Is a network,

Of axons,

That allows you to understand,

Various axioms,

And maxims,

And act on them.

You may not be aware of it,

Or scarcely know of such a thing,

But it’s presence is felt,

Nonetheless.