Some dance in dark rooms,
rhythms surging through veins.
Others jog in bright morning sunlight,
sneakers slapping on pavement.
Others sit in old-smelling airchairs,
reading page after page.
Others paint, write, sculpt, draw.
Others work, and work, and work.
Intoxication: forgetting the self:
The idea. The burden.
Finding a way to merge with the moment.