fungal hugs

In the woods, found, I see my eyes once again open. 

Deep sight, within life,

I taste loam with green pupils, dark with misty light. 

Within her breath I am cradled, every tendon uncoiling-

Softly, slowly, all at once I am empty. 

In the forest, finally, I may sleep truly and open.

Within her ribs, laid upon the moss, truly sacred,

I am home.

My eyes, skull split, bones cracked

My soul. 

I am nutrition. I am chronic. I am rest.

I am whole.

Freedom is found in the surrender, exhale it. 

My heart is filled with her lifeblood - soil

I call it love.

Skin peels from flesh, I look down and find

Veins, no longer mine, glutted with her fingers.

Pine needles, rot, forest flotsam in decay.

With delight, saprophytic, I can see they’ve come to meet me. 

I glory in this privilege as the moss slowly creeps. 

Taproots of oak eat of my bones, -

This life is old.

Conscious, in that nobody knows. 

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