Festering Glory

Hungry mouth, here <.>
Mawing and pawing from the inside
Nervous shards of silver energy
Graying the cells in a terrified dance.

It might move up into the arms, or down to root.

It could do any number of things
But any of them, *any* of them
Happen within awareness

That stillness that I can almost physically feel
Almost aurally hear

As I tune to that space, interestingly, the mawing and pawing

Has turned to love.