The Power Of Flow

Soft hands to skin,

Needling meridians,

Slight pressure,

My eyes close.

Routine.

Pin dots behind my lids from the lights above,

Slowly I drift,

To a wakeful sleep,

I am aware of the soft hum of machines,

Lukewarm chatter,

Physical therapy.

Back to breath.

A gentle zap,

Electric current,

It happens,

Vision of colors,

From the deepest hues of Indigo,

To the cool magenta of smokey models,

Then to the neon green of new technology,

Transitioning to an oily yellow,

Chakras open.

Acid Trip?

I dream of something,

It no longer matters.

Tears flowing down my cheeks.

I’ve woken up.

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