From the Earth: Sculpture

In a forest where the shadows creep,

Vibrant fungi thrive, a secret keep, 

Decay gives birth to colors bright, 

In the heart of nature's quiet night.

 

Translucent silk, like morning mist,

Woven strands by nature kissed,

Photographs of life reformed,

Through rich layers, new shapes are born. 

 

Vines that once would strangle, kill,

Now frame a window, standing still,

A stained glass forged from life's debris,

Revealing truth through artistry.

 

We watch, voyeurs to the scene,

Where nature's hand and human keen,

Blend in a mesh of silken threads,

Past struggles woven, future spreads.

 

Through glass of time, we peer and see,

The clash of greed and harmony,

Destruction masked as progress swift,

Yet precious things in shadows lift.

 

With resin, wood, and fibre string,

A testament to what's gone wrong,

Yet in the chaos, beauty lies,

A woven window to the skies.