My mind overwhelms me with questions
questions of worth
questions of dreams
questions of skill
I sit alone stewing in preparation
for it to come
for it to happen
for it to unfold
All of it sits at the crispy edge of my skinny fingers
I feel the touch
but can’t see where it will take me
I squint to help me see clearer
but there’s nothing there
Then, like lightning splitting a tree in half
the idea falls into my mind:
“close your eyes, idiot
feel it happening”
