Everything had changed.
Everything about her had changed.
It happened swiftly, and with the violence of a blood war between all of the cells charging through her subdermal labyrinth.
The first change started with her eyes;
They shifted shape, and gilded in shade, and she saw the heat of all of the colours for the first time.
She perceived their individual imprints, and let them pour one-at-the-time into her body through her tearducts,
And stamp themselves across the underside of her moon-flecked skin, lighting her up internally.
Other colours pooled and swirled into one another as if in sexual union upon her breast.
She watched even when she felt like she should look away. But it was her gaze that gave them their particular melting heat.
The warmth of their joining upon her quickened her pulse and the heaving of her chest.
She was aware that the colours spoke to her, and urged her hand towards the hub of creation bubbling in her orange-burning belly.
She felt within her a squall about to demolish her walls of skin and bone and muscle as she quaked with stellar scintillation,
And pulled out all of the inspiration she would ever need in a single strand of fire;
She twirled it around her finger, and would save it for the end of an age… and that particular age was already ending.
She took all of this in through her divinity-stained eyes, and could see nothing below the veil of heavens from then onward.
Then her ears changed, and became sharper around the edges, making each sound entering her ring with such an angelically high frequency that it made every hair on her body impale the air.
Her hair follicles swayed to sounds that married her body to the rolling of the waves of the heartsea at her feet, and to the sanguine rivers coursing through the lightflooded valleys and umbral forests of her being.
Her skin began its own transmorgrification next.
It still had its hue of ripe peach but developed a glisten that made one wonder if someone had collected dew from the surface of the pearly moon, and kissed each drop upon her cheeks, down the length of her changling body, and embedded the remainder in her fractaled saline folds.
Each dew drop vibrated with life, and drew her senses completely out of her body, across the eternal chaos of the cosmos, and right back into her with a galaxy of climactic sensorial sublimity beyond earthly expression.
She also absorbed black holes from foreign galaxies… and knew she would have to avoid tiptoeing around the lips of all event horizons that were not her own.
But still she felt parts of the universe making love with her skin; rivers released themselves from her caverns, and twisted down her trembling legs.
She sensed it all in the glisten of her skin and allowed it to further accelerate her metamorphosis.
Her olfactory glands also started to change, and she could now smell the honey of her secrets like she was a little bee following its senses to an undiscovered species of flower tucked away in her nectarous depths.
She was intoxicated when her hands and arms sprouted an explosion of autumn-reddened leaves. Her arms grew into heaven-reaching boughs, and self-encasing branches;
Herself becoming the tree offering herself to the tree as the green of receding summer bedecked her limbs, alongside a death rattle of gold, flame and rust.
Then her tongue split so she could sup on the scalding world without burning her taste buds; she knew what the ineffable tasted like then, and could taste it double.
Her mind, along with her heart, were both deemed ripe for renewal. Where a desert once stood — barren and dessicated, and spanning her entire internal territory — a resplendent garden took root.
A profusion of wild roses and lavender sprung forth from every one of her surfaces. She plucked as many as she could hold in her arms, and hung garlands of the fragrant blooms from every musing in her mind and every longing in her heart.
She let the ghost pipes continue their pigmentless growth in the shadows of the tallest trees, and didn’t dare pick them as they would surely usher in the hauntings. She buried this fear in the soil beneath the spectral plants and raised her boughs to the sky once again.
Her blossoming self-grown garden poured out beyond her earthly frame with a rare luminosity from an unreachable star pulsing deep within her.
The eternal scent crawled through everything, igniting in its wake a fire so dwarfing that darkness didn’t dare lurk in her corners any longer;
Nothing could escape the exchanging of the dark for the light, and her flesh body and mind for something crystalline and closer to divinity.
Not even her.
Her metamorphosis was fated, and offered back to the stars.
*** Read the first line of Ted Hughes’ Tales from Ovid…. This happened…. Gonna go read the rest now…. ***