A poem about discovering our parents’ unlikely victories.
In his world, he held power,
Gently cupped between two hands.
He developed a system of sounds so unique,
Stemming from onomatopoeia,
From monosyllables and meaningful hums,
That only mycelium seemed to understand.
He explored the farthest edges of the mind,
Articulating the present,
Under moonless nights,
He conversed with the jungle,