MUSHROOM m i n d

By Steph Raymond All Rights Reserved ©

Other / Poetry

22/06/2005

22/06/2005

She was a solitary creature.

The faraway kind.

She found herself confined by invisible

rope only when other bodies were near.

And so she would flee.

Tonight, the moon hung

v i b r a n t l y

in the black night

and cast an orange glow in the cool air.

A ring loomed and hugged itself

around it like a tightly wound curl.

A blood moon.

She could never say what has always

drawn her to the moon...

devastated and spell bound by its

o t h e r w o r l d l y b e a u t y .

Looking up, she felt a closeness and familiarity.

She was home

when the moon was emerged.

Safe.

For the moon was her

guardian.

Her protector.

Her

s k y m o t h e r .

The moon whispered sweet stories of love in her ear at night

and blanketed her with its soft glow…

sinking itself into her veins,

healing her hollow body with magic and grace.

Her

h e a l e r .

So when the voices got too loud,

and her blood would run too quick,

she would wait for the sun to rest

and the moon to wake

and shed a glowing silky layer over her body

so that she could be

c a l m .

And then she could go home and

sleep.

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