IV. The Verdant Vertigo
He trod upon the bryophytic floor,A soft, spongiform carpet of decay,Through gates of lignin, an arboreal doorThat swallowed up the vestiges of day.The chlorophyll, a viscous emerald gall,Pulsed rhythmic through the xylem’s wooden veins,While ivy, with a thigmotropic crawl,Ensnared the magus in its leafy chains.Each bough was heavy with an amber weight,The resins of a thousand frozen years,Preserving in their translucent, golden stateThe fossilized and prehistoric fears.The forest breathed a photosynthetic sigh,A lung of leaves beneath a leaden sky.
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