The pilgrimage, the lines, the coolers with fast melting ice.
Expectations, shedding the layers …the layers …the layers.
Am I here yet? The hours drift by. Camps are erect, RV generators hum, the layers become, become glowing with anticipation.
Night falls… with music, glow sticks, and bikes …ah how I loved riding the playa at night.
…dust, neon, lack of sleep …art-cars and sunrise bars. We come from afar …to light up the night sky, strut our flame, and awaken who we are!
We Are! We Are! …all here blossoming, flowing, nurturing our creativity …a part, a scene, a piece of what seems …to be, to be, the whole of everything.
The man burns… We chant with excitement. Whooping and hollering. We cannot be bothered… not by the default… not by me or you… not by the layers. Here it is all new, new but familiar. The music starts, the night is young …we begin our dance ’til the rise of the sun.
The temple burns–we are solemn, we sit, we wait, we hold our breath. …hello …good-bye …to those no longer by our side. The flames rise, they slow, we stand in honor at the ashes on the playa floor. We wander a bit, but not before leaving something… a wish token perhaps, a loved one’s ashes, a promise for next year… Yes! A promise!