Magic Mushroom

MAGIC MUSHROOM The universe with all its dust Collected here upon Earth’s crust Somehow a blend on forest floors Just appeared as tiny spores Contained inside a magic mix A proper little bag of tricks Consumed by folk to make them dream The conscious mind torn at the seam Sounds and colours, vivid sights Moving patterns, blinding lights Mixing with the chemistry Dissolving true reality What are the odds of such a blend? To affect the mind, to make it bend Appearing here on this small world Since all the dust was blown and swirled Maybe it was left by gods Or floated down in alien pods Or maybe they’re just meant to be Just as important as you or me In all the elements out in space What else affects the human race?