The Dancer (A Poem About a Dancer)

Yesterday I wrote a poem and I wasn’t pleased by it. This is not that poem. This was written on a starry night in Texas as I sat on a log, and thought about dancing.

I got the image of a girl dancing ballet on a stage and this was me translating that image into words, or poetry what have you. 

The Dancer

 She moves

So intricate so fragile

With everything

And nothing

The gentle overture

A sweeping discord of love

Lost and broken

Of truth and sacrifice

Her heart bends

With grace and ruined to despair

Oh to keep the soul

To keep the soul

And molded by such pretty lights

By such pretty sounds

Lost in it all

In every direction

The line holds

And beauty’s face harmonious

Disastrous

And everything

Oh strings of heaven’s joy

Be my pain

Be my brokenness

So that I may know

That I may feel

And lose myself once again

Like waves upon the shore

A flower in a garden

A song in the wind

Move me

Break me

And I will stare forever

In the eyes of beauty

As beauty moves

And spills like the sun

Across the fields

And her portrait unveiled

In the form of creation

Oh how I love

Oh how I burn

To live

To feel

To love

To die

And should I die

My heart would pass

Complete yet empty

Whole yet broken

Ever changed

Ever transformed

By these moments

That stain the ethers

With such pretty colors

Like dawn on the ocean

My ocean

Of eternal blue

Of eternal love

And I have heard such beautiful music

And I have felt such glorious pleasures

But never have I seen beauty

Beauty so intricate so fragile

To the tune of angelic voices

And melancholy

Gazing into the very heart of heaven

The very heart that inspires the most hopeless of souls

And how hopeless am I?

And the line

And the overture

And the discord

And everything

And nothing

We are broken

Weathered glass

As she moves

As beauty moves

P.S. Iron Man 3 sucked.

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