To be a stone, or
a plant, or the root
at the end of it— vascular
network pushing through
granular earth like a miner
tunnels toward ore—
Blind and without guidance,
moving through resistance
toward any faint echo
of moisture; the water
table beneath mycelial
layers, long growth
of the centuries, no sun
but that deep heart
you'd hear coming close.
Body by then
worn to bone, the mind
a flickering torchlight.