This skin is an uncomfortably ill fitted soul covering. Worn down from years of battle scars, ink marks, and stretching itself beyond its means. A lesser concern to the yearning burning within to obtain the knowledge one’s self. Etched with pieces piecing together the greater story of journeys into understanding that it is not either skin or soul, but the whole, which completely compiles the all of me.
Me. The uncomfortably ill fitted mirror shatterer. The stubborn never giver upper who should have given up and let go. Letting go isn’t easy when there are hooks in your skin.
Now let this sink in.
I have rescued the wounded and bloody. I have straightened the spines of the fearful. I have lifted the fallen on my back that they may see their beauty reflected in the moon. Shown them stars are brightly burning lights standing up to the dark in an attempt to be more like them.
I can see it clearly in all but myself. Perhaps this skin is too thick to let light in…always out. Perhaps it is just easier to heal, than to be healed.