But it lands into the communion of souls
All lost leaves, all melting green into wormholes
Where the cosmic forces will reap and sow
There is a city in the soil, a galaxy of aliens
Every crevice in a stone is a suburb of the world
A leaf falls in loneliness, but then it drapes uncurled
upon the billions. Each footstep strike is salient
to the crushed houses and reconstruction where roots
Rebuild and insects crush and fungal pathways push
the highways of the underworld back from the boot
There is a convoy of life in every drop of river rush
There are spores of hope for every bit of soot
We are never alone in the room, never a dead hush
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