It's Still Life

Soil’s Song
( a 70µg microdose of 70 words)

I know soil. Its memory hums beneath my feet, my hands deep in its dark gospel — decay turned bloom. A cradle for seed, for bone, and eternity’s silence — where roots whisper, gossiping like neighbours over the fence.

I know the hush of unborn gardens, the breath of ancient forests. This soil is no dirt; it is a dream that remembers the shape of everything rising from its palm.