We are the children of leaf and loam.
We do not worship progress. We follow the spiral.
We walk backwards into the future, eyes on the mycelial past.
We declare:
✦ That the world is alive.
Not metaphorically, but factually.
Stones hum. Fungi speak. Rivers remember.
This is not poetry, it is protocol.
✦ That to live well is to live entangled.
We do not sever. We graft. We root. We compost.
Nothing is thrown away. There is no away.
✦ That growth without reciprocity is a tumour.
We do not aspire to endless. We aspire to enough.
Enough shade. Enough food. Enough time to watch a snail move across a wet path.
✦ That laws made without listening to the land are not laws, but noise.
We listen. To the elder tree. To the wind in the bramble.
We vote with our footprints and our refusals.
✦ That capital is not king.
The true currencies are: seeds, trust, attention, patience, decay.
We commit:
✧ To restoring kinship with the more-than-human.
✧ To dismantling systems that feed on lifeforce.
✧ To slowness, softness, and sharpness when needed.
✧ To becoming soil ancestors worth remembering.
We are not here to dominate.
We are here to tend.
We are not waiting for permission.
We are already planting.