My world is made of words;
words that float through my mind and through my hand -
words that peel off the page and become vibrations -
words that have shaped my sense of self and my dreams.
I whisper words to myself as my hands unconsciously tap a rhythm on the table -
one, and, two, and, three, and, four, and -
and they conduct me as I form rhythms on the drum set.

I let words steer my fingers across the keys of the piano -
sforzando, diminuendo, staccato -
and I listen to the rise and fall of the A's and C's and E's around me.
I follow words as they spout from the mouth of my dance teacher
leading me across the studio floor.
They later flow from my memory -
to the ends of my limbs-
and control my movements,
whether they are graceful and poised or erratic and emotional.
I absorb words as they twist and twirl around me
in a busy classroom
when I am silent and alone.
I regurgitate them when I have carefully constructed the courage