'Something wicked this way comes.'
Shakespeare's words from these fingers.
The storms reign wild outside this home.
The branches scratch like rattling bones.
Midnight came on wings of darkness, and with it wind, that moans like the voices of millions of ghosts.
This is a night that wakes the wildness in me.
This is a night that makes me feel free.
My eyes will not close in the small death of sleep.
My heart beats wild as if to a drum's beat.
My blood flows so fast like I'm running a race, and my soul feels as wild as a deep forest place.
I wish to go dance, get lost in the flood.
The wildness in me will not be assuaged,
'till I dance in the wild under the storm's rage as I have every summer since I came of age.