Nothing on my arms but half-light and rain
The sky is one foggy silver and the air is a cold beverage that
Feels good going down my lungs.
Adrenaline floods out pain, rain floods the road
Jasmine flowers color my consciousness.
My music multiplies it.
It is the weather,
Cars pass, and I smile every time on the inside
Because they're going somewhere to get there,
And I'm going somewhere just to go.
It is not about the thinking, the organizing, the plans.
It is not contained in achievement, nor in distance.
It is in the way the music of the storm
Adds thunder to the drums of my music;
In the way the flash flood streams
Sing more powerfully than any lyricist
And in the roar of a car that pushes by,
Tire treads brushing the pavement with the sticky sound of speed
I neither have nor want.
I am bundled by the atmosphere,
Cloaked in soaked-soil perfumes that smell something like
Independence and childhood innocence in one bottle.
My knowledge is
One unit mindset of blissful fulfillment
Absent of the petty, of worry, and of the concept of time
Seeping out of a bucket I can not maintain.
Where am I?
Somewhere in between "I've started my stopwatch"
And "it stopped raining, so I will too".
I'm in the middle of "right place at the right time";
The kind of moment that my head and heart
Agree on committing to fond memory,
Without my consciousness even realizing it.
I'm not reaching for the sky;
I'm baring my arms to the shower
Like holding an ice cube in the summer,
Pressing my cheek to a window,
Adding spearmint to an old recipe,
Or putting on lotion in the winter.
I am not here;
I am everywhere.
As far as I can see, smell, and hear,
I am there.
Then eventually, I remember.
I neither fall nor rise to consciousness, but return
Like waking up in the morning,
Already preferring the sunshine to my pillow.