The floor is cold 

My spirit is warm

The curtain is opening

My body is now filling with

Wonderful colorful winged things

Then fear is reliquished

 

My chest beats with emotion

My heart sways to the melody

My posture is focused 

My mind is erect

Stage: my feet on the cusp

Lights: from my face, reflect

 

My legs become arrows

The target is my audience

Hunting in the exhibition

One who will not only see

Someone who will listen

 

My arms become cut wires

Energy surges

It reaches your heart

Grasping you mind

It makes you a part

Of the story I tell