Fungi light/ Fungi Language by Darryl Price

I'm sitting in the dark of my
own kitchen, because it is dark
outside, not from night but from clouds.
I guess that's where I'll start talking
from. This isn't about you. I'm
not sure it's even about me.
It's probably about the all
or nothing, since everything is
connected to everything else,
through the mycorrhizal fungi
that covers the earth, inside and
far outside the lingering shine
of stardust in our veins. Why do
you think music travels so far
and fast? It's the most common form
of a common language. It
arrives scattering in our brains
like a waterfall of lightning.
I'm sitting in the dark, but they
still tell me I am being filled
with angelic light from within,
the good magic kingdom of our
heaven. It's in the cells of my
body and the atoms whirling
me through space and time, like a loose
fleshy satellite or a spy
balloon. A time bomb, if you will,
waiting to explode or slowly
decompose. But how does this help
any of us in the sacred
quest to find love? I'm thinking it's
there to remind us to not take
everything so seriously.
But that could be just me making
poor excuses for sitting here
in the dark. The fungi says not
to worry, everything's working
perfectly, to correct the screwed
up pathways in and around us,
above and below us. But how
does this help any of us to
be loved? I'm sure there's a really
neat science explanation for
it, but I'd like to hear it from
the factory man or woman
first. I don't believe in Kings. I
don't believe in schoolyard bullies.
I trust my own deepest feelings.

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