I am aware.
I am conscious of each crevice of things as
insignificant as slick shower tile.
The bitter cold extracts the saturation from my skin —
and I am aware.
Each blink yields a sharpened perspective —
and I am grateful.
My adventurous fingertips hunger
and e v e r y t h i n g .
Invigoration expands within and
clouding, yet simultaneously enhancing,
my poor vision.
This heightened sense of perception encourages me to
offer myself to the world and its will;
Do with me what you may.
Steer my soul in your direction —
It’s something to believe in.
I’ll just wander,
I’ll come to a standstill, easily,
allowing my surroundings to flow through me.
Each aspect —
from the sensations of each slow breath
to the ever-changing textures passing underneath each anxious fingertip
will contribute to the vitality of my spirit.
(Wanna know what inspired this poem? [And also what I hate about it?] Check out the rationale!)