There’s a magic flowing through 

Each and every thing.

I wish that you could feel its pow’r

It shakes my living be’ng.

It doesn’t differentiate

No ‘isms’ or ‘otries’—

It doesn’t care how ignorant

You just happen to be

We’ll never know, for instance,

And can’t hazard a guess,

What fungi say to old oak trees

In their silent address

But we know that they have names!

They call each other things!

We fail to understand so much

Our senses can’t perceive.