for a toadstool

i have words for you
dweller of the living
carpet
you sit there
tugging at the gown
of the old
mistress of light and shadows
you reach upward
to supplicate those
who are gods and mortals
stone and sand
the sun kisses
their faces
gifts of the bright realm
and you rely upon things
that once were and are not
you know little of
the wind's soaring tongue
words choked by the universe
i ask, will they
believe in phantasms,
will they bow to blasphemy, will
they hear strange
words uttered in
distant places