I begin.
I open my eyes.’
I make a first step.
My heartbeat defines the rhythm.

Passage of sounds rains through my spine.
Hot and cold. Hot and cold. Hot and cold.
Electric impulses. Small vibrations. Light dust.
Subtle messages of inspiration.

My veins.
My nerves.
My lymph vessels.
That is where the motion is born.

Prelude. The dance always begins with a sigh.
But my body is too inpatient to wait for it.
If there is no Stillness there should be Joy.

My bones float half an inch above the ground.
My muscles are wired and dry.
My skin is turned out.
I see the floor but my eyes are looking inwardly.

Small dance of my spine establishes a flow.
There is no beginning.
There is no death.
Everything is re-born.
Everything is re-cycled.

Balance. Extend. Shift. Fall. Yield. Gather. Push. Balance. Fall.
Turn back. Let go. Surrender. Embrace. Ground.
Shape. Momentum. Attention. Center. Initiation.
Action. Space. Time. Effort.

Those are the characters in my plot.
Those are the notes. The colors. The melody.
Those are the keys I am going to play on.