Intangibles

Your hands shake, uncontrollably, when you get close. You try to steady them, but they will not listen. They have taken on a life of their own and listen only to the commands of thrumming intangibility. If you have enough courage, you will let them go, let the song waft up from your trembling secrets. You want to breathe, be taken along for the ride, responding, as necessary, with every ounce of your skills, your passion, your love. When you look at your hand, it settles down, finds a way, is calm and steady as a stone. You almost see through it. It knows. It is part of you, but does not belong to you. This is all so new you say. It says I have been here since you were born. You just forgot. Every move is joy; every breath a tonic. Where to from here you ask. Toward the dream it says. You nod. Take me with you. The crazy man is here.