Lions Mane

From the spore

mycelium grows 

with every 

dew and strain

burrowing 

entangled forms

nets of silver 

gilt and chain

Dining on 

both waste 

and ferment

sipping on 

some last decay

tracing shadow 

paths it follows 

fuses into 

silver skeins

When the web 

can hold no more

the life in death 

at last proclaims

fruit of darkness

revelation

mushrooms 

in the pouring rain