Sitting on a 55-year-old padded wood chair
Trying to keep my spine in line
Wiping free random thoughts to focus
On my spiritual breathing
Drawing a path to a secret place
The dark deserted cave barely lit
Stomping through muddy water
Feeling treacherous rocks
So, I don’t fall
Peering through the bristling future opening
The sun peaks a hole for my guided imagery
My heart races knowing an escape hatch is near
Dragging my spindly legs
Blinking eyelids capture windy crusts
Inching forward with perpetual anticipation
Gulping for oxygen
Predicting a freefall warm chill
Goosebumps smiling
Grass foliage whispers to me
You have arrived
WILDsound Festival 