I am the feather strokes of sage
Brushing against my palm
The desert sand shifting underfoot

I am the inhale that breaths the world
The intoxicating aroma of memory
Past and present alive in the same moment

I am the pressure that becomes a whisper
That becomes a cry, pealing across the sky
Filling the world with a cacophony of sound

I am the face that flickers
From my feet to the clouds
Scans mountain ranges and sapling forests
Soaks in the splashes of wild-flowers
Color in a sepia landscape

I am the parched lips parted
When the swirling cumulous let go the first drops of rains
I am the moisture sliding down my own throat, refreshed

I am beyond these things as I am them
I am inspiration like electricity flashing

Lightening the darkness and then gone
Flickers remaining to dance

along your skin

across your retinas

around your taste buds

about your nostrils

against your eardrums