There is no light but I can still see.
I watch as the shadows appear down the line, illuminated by the handheld lights resting on the ground in front of us.
Arms raise up as if in surrender, uncovering that light; a small treasure, in time with the quiet him of the speakers.

I feel like living art.
The absence of stress, dancing into a mystery.

In the corner we command ships while standing on top of the world, the lights held tightly, fluttering on and off with the music.
We move the the wind.

Faint flickers pave the path of a circle, spinning, reaching, until it's only me.

I walk forward, one singular light shining beneath my feet. The soft pink fabric somewhat blends into my skin, as if I'm one with the movement.
I am alone but I am not.

On this pitch black stage, the audience views eleven, all encaptured in the glow of our individual lights, just the size of our palms. Staggered like a multitude of lighthouses at sea, lampposts as you’re driving down the highway, fireflies in June, we are collectively full of strength as powerful as the sun.

Here I am, drowned in light on this tiny stage, although the world around me is dark.

I am home, more awake than before.