I am the fern
growing in the shadows
my unfurled fronds
sweep the floor
at the feet of giants
my bed is the moss
and rotting arms
of those lofty principalities
who could no longer
uphold their burdens
I feast on their scraps
as their flesh ages
withers and fades
to flake off and feed
the open mouth of the earth
though I'm lowly
men don't seek my bones
and I can survive the fell of the forest
when the giants who once shadowed me
can't
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