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MUSHROOM m i n d

By Steph Raymond All Rights Reserved ©

Other / Poetry

13/03/2015

13/03/2015

He was a soul

h o v e r i n g

between worlds-

Gently bathing between the stars and her skin.

This process of creation and growth brings the spirit to apprehend

a realm beyond this one

and Gemma was hypnotized by the gentle curving of a body hidden in the supple pockets of her

I n t e r n a l s e l f .

She felt his own electric energy flower within her,

extending itself to dark places for healing.

He was just that, after all.

A healer.

A form both soft and round, unfinished and remarkable, ever-changing and fortifying.

Imprinting himself into her skin so that she would forever be marked by his presence.

This time was only for them.

The time he spent furrowing himself into her gentle edges was

q u i e t a n d p r i v a t e.

It bore a string of secrets that echoed from worlds beyond this one-

singing songs in a language that only she could decode.

She could feel herself peeling away, like a snake changing skin.

The tiny frame within her would soon reveal a new form.

A form with skin stretched so thin, readying to shed itself to make way for new layering...

peeling away the thick coats of greed and selfishness...

the unseemliness inside of her to make way for skin that

g l o w s

like fireflies in the black night.

Skin made to comfort, heal and nourish.

The skin of a shape-shifter.

The skin of a mother.

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