The dance, The Dance
Seeing two people dancing around each other, who missed love like a flight, hop skipping from hurt to healed, world to world, always chasing, just never at the same time. The pain on faces belie the darkness in hearts when the light of love leaves, shining eyes grow dim,
tears drowning out their glow. The dance is fate, is wyrd, is the fraying heart strings that attach all lovers to the death knell, the embers of a relationship doomed. The true question is how scarred the earth left behind the scuffle, how fertile will soil be once burned?
How long must lovers lie loveless before finding new love again. The answers lays in the counted footsteps, the tune, and the rythmn of the final dance. A moment of silence for the small death, the end of a world, the silence left when the music stops
I saw the steps and remembered the last time I felt a tune not danced to ;Kabdul













