Dax Guy

Scars show themselves in summer, when your skin is free and you’re not afraid to show the ugly bits just to let the breeze touch one more inch. Wounds, purple and fresh or old and rigid, are laid bare in front of the stage, readying themselves for transformation. They meet their healer quickly but gently. As my limbs echo the drums, my soul absorbs the rhythm, massaging the space between my heart and mind, radiating nirvana inwards and outwards simultaneously. The beats heal my wounds, over and over again, without doubt, questions, or bills to pay. After realizing the simple truth of that cycle, I become the healer myself. My pains dissolve into the dance floor and my body relaxes, knowing I’ve found the remedy.