People like to say:

Take things day by day.

You never know where things are gonna go, so go with the flow, and

take the higher road.

C’est la vie,

and so the story goes..

But don’t hit the road, Jack. Instead,

be yourself follow your path march to the beat of your own drum let your true colors show and don’t forget to:

find your voice.

But what if the path gets too loud and colorful?

What if you drum so loud that the sound of your voice drowns in the cacophony, and your eyes are blinded by all the hues

of overwhelming beauty.

Suddenly your road less traveled is a kaleidoscope of experience, fuzzy proclamations of the self.

Your freak flag is flying in the wind but you don’t know from what direction the wind is blowing.

Wait a minute,

there’s something in that last bit.

Yeah, the wind.

It is blowing.

How does it feel on your skin?

You know, that breathing organ that envelops you whole

stretches over elbows, rolls down the knees

and even goes as far as

in-between

your

toes.

Yes, that sweet sweet skin.

The thing that connects and surrounds us all

and refuses to let us fall

alone.

Everyday ,whether we are marching or simply winding our way, we seek skin like worms seek the rain,

like the skin that swiped against your arm as you were leaving the subway.

like the skin that held your hair and told you it would be okay

like the skin that cradles your face

and makes you forget

what all those people say.