She had learned to move from the wind. It whispered secrets to her and made her spin wild through the sunflower fields. She danced atop every jewelry box that turned around children near and far as they dreamed.
One day the wind told her to fly, but she was not ready and so she came to the mouth of the sea and asked what am I to be? The ocean cloaked her body in silky waves and laughed, “be free, like me.”
But I am a slave, said the dancer, I am shackled in a world that makes our children weak. And we have all fallen fast asleep to know not the difference between our feet and our knees. The water lifted her up and she began to flow as her own current. Dew drops of blood precipitated into soft rain.
She floated towards a tribe deep in the woods and watched as the fire danced to the rhythm of the atmosphere. “So you want me to believe that I can dance through silence?” She mocked. The Fire laughed also. I am inside of you, just as my light flickers so fast that it seems constant, so you are withal.
The fire moved with grace.
And the dancer picked up her pace. She tiptoed up a mountain high and the dust and the dirt kicked her on the eyes, as she climbed down the mountain she fell to her knees. Why must I return again and again to the dust? She looked up and saw that the mountains surrounded her on all sides.
“I don’t want to come back again” she screamed.
“But I will gift you sight, and smell, and with eyes, I will give you with beauty that none can surmise.” Repsoned the Moon
“What about this pain, these emotions and this hurt?” she cried out because she could not sustain herself in this world.
I will hold you up, even as you drown I send angels to calm the water, and as you reach to catch your breath my branches gather around your neck. Your fire burns strong dancer, there is no such thing as regret. Flow with the good, the bad, and the ugly to the ultimate certainty: Death.
And so she laced her slippers for one final dance into the dust…