An interesting phenomena, to me, is to try and verbalize excitement. That subtle sense of spine tingling that makes you aware of all the decisions you have made to bring yourself to wherever you are, and despite all of that it still wants to propel you forward with enthusiastic abandonment.
That captures a slice of the pizza and while tasty, it falls wholly short to satisfy the actual feeling. The open window, music blaring, infectious roller coaster of fleeting invincibility is lacking. The wild breathes trying desperately to come to grips with the heart pounding involvement of our beings and the surrounding world.
Excitement, no man has more than another. One jumps from a cliff the other plans a little adventure. It’s the intimacy with which you allow yourself to dance with your own heart, the good and bad, that gives excitement space to flourish.
It’s a spark in the dark.
It’s the rocky wedge at the ocean’s edge.
It’s the sunbeam in your dream.
It’s your act, without tact.
It’s the last saloon, on your way home.