when the sludge has set, and you
feel like your skin may crack its way off of you.
you'll never go back to work, you'll never answer your phone.
den of thought.
try to slowly wiggle your toes.
loosen the weight off of your feet,
and get up.
go outside to your car, get in and drive.
drive to the old dirty mountain road
and roll your window down.
stick your hand out of the window and let the wind move you through the air. that air, i still don't understand. that air moves me and you through space. that air will move your hand, and with some control, will move it, echoing the waves of oceans that surround you, no matter where you are.
that rolling motion, that wave, will carry you to a better place. a place of appreciation. a smile. a simple movement will rush all the way through you, and out the other side.
that wind will take something from you, the bliss your body is feeling in that moment, and it will move through the air and space and into the lungs of people everywhere.
that is a moment for yourself. that is a moment for the world. that is the cure.