The flow.
Like air, like water.
One arm, two arms.
Twirl, skip, spread.
Flowing like the rhythm that slowly wraps around my skin.

Tap, jump, pop, lock, control.
Freedom.
No control, given to the music.
Sway like the trees being played by the air.
The beat grabs a hold and you give way.

No thoughts,
no plans,
just dance.

Like a pre-programmed robot,
but just as real as the pre-programmed rising sun.
Shift like the sand.
Flow. Fly.
Capture.
Paint with your body.
On the empty canvas of air.
The many colors of music to choose from.

As your brush moves,
let it inspire.
Create.
Revive.

Painting my dance.