Floating through time and space,
Like a feather lost in wake and in Dreams,
I, the imaginary, beautiful, almost ballerina make the dark days sing;
Floating, dancing, flawlessly between the music, and the words,
Living the artist’s way;
Spinning Love and Magick and Truth with reckless abandon…
Defying Fate and fabricating my Faith to fool even my own disbelief;
Embracing with Grace all that I face,
Desperately trying to treasure one moment- The Moment.
But moments and treasures are rare;
And Time holds the key to my steps…
And what is a step? but a part of the Dream?
Which the Dancer controls through her Art;
Twirling, leaping, bending, spinning, screaming, falling, down-
Perfecting the story- she dances stubbornly on,
Escaping all rhyme or reason,
She keeps her eyes closed, and her heart focused on the stage;
And re-becoming the Dancing Intellectual she’s always been.