Peaceful Meditation

Geoa Geer
Geoa Geer
Nov 2 · 3 min read

Today, we meditate.

Sit with me and breathe, my friend. In. And out. In. And out.

Your lungs and heart and pulse of blood all know their place.

You are here.

Your brain fires. Your eyes twitch. Your heart settles.

Or doesn’t.

Your body tries. Your body fails. We breathe. In. And out.

And open our eyes.

We see our thoughts and minds, swirling, together. We see trees and sky. We see our pulse on our wrist. We feel our breath. In. And out.

We focus on the sky and it fills your vision. It’s harsh and full of darkness, stars twinkling in the approaching dusk. You smell the sharp smell of distant fire and sky and the weight of summer, winter, night, and death. We breathe.

It fills your mouth. It fills your lungs. Your teeth, ache. Your mouth, waits.

You think you smell (or taste?) blood. You blink. The sky gets closer. And darker. You grin.

You lift your throat and heart to it, waiting and watching and eating and breathing.

Breathing in the sky as the sun dips below the horizon. Darkness, too dark for logic or your eyes to adjust, envelops you. You are held. You breathe. In. And out.

Next, you feel your skin, your fingernails, your approaching claws. (A small-hard tug of thoughts says, no.) Fingernails, not claws. But you feel a grin spread, your teeth still aching, sharply, now, as they fill your mouth with blood and fangs. Fangs for hurting. Fangs for eating. Teeth wildly too large for you or hunting or grass, but — big enough for the sky.

The back of your throat aches for warmth. You feel dirt on your skin, its smell in your nose and along your toes, blood and blood and blood pumping and fading and glowing.

You feel a rhythm next to you, in front of you, in your nose and eyes and endless fangs. You feel the pulse of them, their heart and skin and breath and touch, soft touch, of fear.

You feel their breath. In. And out. You feel their heart quicken.

You feel their skin prick.

You feel their nervous smile as you watch and grin and hide even as the darkness holds and swirls and takes you, your lines becoming blurry, your skin loosing its rough soft edge.

You feel the deep thrumhumjoy of the sky, your new skin and teeth and body.

You feel the sky, the dirt, the breath, the heart.

Now, we feel joy fading, blood wilting, death abating, darkness brushing past. We let skin return back to our arms and legs and feet and anus.

We breathe.

Today, we meditate. Today, we lose ourselves. Today, we breathe with our eyes open and teeth-fangs hollow, aching, waiting, peaceful. Today we wait. Today we breathe. Today we let our blood pulse.

In.

And out.

Geoa Geer

Geoa Geer

Sharing sunshine, love, ultimate frisbee, and weird, creepy stories. Hug :)

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