The Writer's Voice

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I am the rhythmic motion of cradling waters
The sound of the swift, floating winds
As they caress one's face
The feel of the sun's warmth blanketing one's form
While laying surrounded by damp grasses
I am the steady beating of a heart 
Unrushed, strong, slow pumping
Deep long breaths of cool air
Touching nostrils; filling lungs
One's chest rising and falling in a continual pattern
Calming silence stuffing the empty space
Weight on eyelids as lashes tempt to set on chilled cheeks
Dull escaping of the mind from the outside
Sensing the creeping of heat from the relaxed body
In a straight undisturbed flow
I am the instant the brain surrenders 
To one's unconscious mind
Into enveloping slumber

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