becoming a mother

what once was

is gone 

the freedom of the wind

rushing through miles of tall grasses

now stands still

and the flowers

that met the sun on a whim 

and fulfilled themselves

have all dried up

the old forest

of old stories

has collapsed

what once was

is gone

and those who climb this mountain today

will never know the years endured and enjoyed here

they will only see the end of something and wonder

but those who know the secret

will look for the new beginning promised

kneeling over

eyes wide

smiling to find

mushrooms

emerging from the black

out of the dark

comes something 

recycled

mysterious

intelligent 

miraculous

brand new yet

embodying the entirety of 

what once was

and it’s better

than it was before