There it was. I thought I found a little leak of substance. Yes, I felt the hole and the leak was there. I could feel the crack in my chest. A stream of warm butterflies fluttering in a single file, around my heart and lungs, through my ribs and out the center of my sternum. The fluttering of the wings beat so hard I felt the waves of warmth spiral up my neck and ring in my ears and then down my arms stopping with pressure at my finger tips. It felt almost erotic to be awakened from a deep, restless and redundant sleep. A lustful few seconds of that perfect dream right before you wake when it's the most real. So good you try hard not to wake up so to make it last longer, to make it your reality instead of a the soulless routine.
The leak was small and oozes only a little at a time. A controlled and thoughtful passage from inside to out. Not too much all at once and not too little. Never flooding or overwhelming as it had when I was younger. Not the flooding gates that where crashed through many years ago. The scars from those floods have healed, leaving only very little to the naked eye. Concealed well and hidden from the general public. Safe and guarded in the layers of epidermis that have grown over them like rich moss over cool rocks. It’s all under the control of a golden lock now. It needs only be touched by the vibrations of melody or words and just enough will trickle out to set the world on fire.
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