when the music starts, i'm watching her dance. slender and long she gently sweeps across the stage. hardwood floors worn soft by the years. a single light softly illuminates the stage. the empty auditorium filled with old seats, their fabric cushions thin and frayed by all the bottoms who've sat on them.
a blink and then i open my eyes, seeing the world through her eyes. i'm dancing, and i'm choosing to dance, but i'm not choosing the motions. the music is. the music fills up my arms, surging through them and expanding them until they must bend and twirl and reach out to the gentle commands of the rhythm. the steady beat is a heartbeat, a pulse of light that will never leave. the dance is no more than a surrender. it has no thought, and it cannot see the future. the only moment is to move. and now the floor is covered with sand, and as my toes swirl through the soft grains, leaving a trail of my presence, i wonder if my dance must leave evidence of its immortality or of its constant renewal.
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