Off in space. Not knowing where to put my hands or where to start cleaning up these thoughts that are spread around me like feathers from a torn pillow. I’m in a mode of sweet, utter panic and it’s put me in a spiral not unlike a tornado. Where I’ll touch down remains to be seen. Somewhere soft, I hope. Somewhere warm and dry and cuddly so I’ll want to stay put a while. So I won’t feel the need to flee to the next big dream. An intense need to stop and absorb the moment falls around me. I’m cocooned in my desire. Stuck and happy to enjoy it. Loving the feeling of knowing it happened, finally. Hating the anticipation of having to learn to spread my wings and fly. Can’t I just stay here? It’s a happy place.