Closer and closer we dance
To the edge,
A fever pitch
We have reached
An unstoppable pledge.
Death becomes us,
Guides our feet
To wander until
We hear the beat.
Until that sorrowful day arrives
When the dance will take our lives
And then eternally we will become
Heart-breakingly lethal
To all not some.
From possé to arabesqué,
For all down here there is no rest.
Grand jeté to precise plié,
We dance toward the end of days.
Silence are we,
Round and round, across the
Unknown hallowed ground.
Unseen, unheard,
The dance of death
Remains the final word
With Greek and Roman
Side by side,
Pirouetting with eyes blown wide.
The King and Queen
From days of yore
Glissade across
The endless floor.
Romani and Runaway relevé
Which quickly turns
To pas de valse.
Lastly arriving
Are me and you
To join with unending
Pas de duex.
Together here, we dress in blood red
Dancing and dancing 'til all the world's dead
And this danse macabre will forever extend
Until all hear the music and all lives can end.
YOU ARE READING
Le Cygne
Thơ caThe words of a dying swan. They vary greatly in length and content and I am extremely infrequent but I'm moving at my own pace and trying to get things I find important out of my system. Bear with me and in time I'll bare my soul to you.
