The Cosmic Dancer

A poem
by Samantha Reynolds
Republished without permission
11/3/2015

I am not old, she said
I am rare

I am the standing ovation
at the end of the play

I am the retrospective
of my life
as art

I am the hours
connected like dots
into good sense

I am the fullness
of existing

you think I am waiting to die
but I am waiting to be found

I am a treasure
I am a map
these wrinkles are imprints
of my journey

ask me
anything.

~ by Chris Hibbard on November 3, 2015.