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;

Believing nothing-

And re-becoming the Dancing Intellectual she’s always been.

-Spellerella.