When every part of patient patterns
Seem to fit inside the other
A symbiotic matrimony, of sorts,
Fills us up each day
Like sun that orbits around and around
And the moon, just biding its time
Mycelia strings together the dots
Connecting you to me
And sun to earth and rain to mud
And seed to harvest it too!
So down we go, deep inside
To sprout one million times amore.