green catacomb

in our convention of mold only we can make the
floorboards not squeak and so we stare at the
intruder.

our green eyes in unison.

the intruder's nostrils flare as they breathe our
new air and accept it and then with one step forward
they join our convention. eyes return and scatter.

cobwebs are wrapped around my collar and I hold you
while we look at the mold. precious and delicate we
have accidently created the perfect environment for
it. who knows for how long? everyone else that comes
here feels it too, and most of them stay and join
us. the ones that don't will return eventually.

so I twist a long strand of it in my fingers with
gentleness - and I know that tomorrow this one will
bloom. and then we will nudge its fruit with our
breath. we have found out that they need us to watch
them in order to grow.

I can see the former intruder down on his hands and
knees his eyes gazing at a really intricate and
beautiful formation. I can't help but smile at their
entranced wonderment - with a tinge of sadness I see
a mirror of my past self.

later:
for some reason intruders stopped coming into our
green catacomb. our numbers became stagnant and we
grew old with the mold. the most ancient strands
developed a beautiful and intricate bark. I could
not decipher the writing in its patterns. the
brittle nature of it consumed our efforts and
attention.

we cared for the mold and desperately wished that it
would outlive us and outgrow its reliance on us.
some of the feathered plumes were so top heavy that
they sagged. I spend all my days now holding up one
of these plumes. in this locked position I have seen
some of the other members fold away into the convention.
as for the others outside of my vision; I have begun
to hear less and less of their breaths moving through the air...

before me, as I hold the plume, a youthful looking
sprout lifts up from a kink in one of the ancient
barks. days pass and I see it begin to develop a
fruiting body on its end. I know that the end is
near, but I have a plan: if the mold must be watched
in order to grow, then, I have resolved to die with
my eyes open and gazing upon it.