I dance on a stage lined with poetic words, phases, and rhymes.
My barton is my feathered pen that moves in the wind.
My inspiration is everyone I meet as I bow to them with grace..
I swirl in the sacred energies as body moves on Mothers soil.
The cool dirt tantalizes my senses to write with visions.
The sun above feeds my breath so I merge with its light.
The wind carries periods, and comas in my creative mind.

Yes, on stage I go celebrating the moment
The moment I am in human form.