We Are The Dance

Remember the Dance of lines not yet drawn. 

The Dance of the undreamed other. 

Bellies soft and all a’wonder. 

We are Dance of needle, thread and weave,

of cloth and pattern, cut and cloak.

We are mud, root, trunk, bark, branch and leaves.

We are forest. Elm, Birch, Beech and Oak.

We are Dance of flower and bee,

of pollen, honey, hive.

We are wind that moves between those trees,

dappled sunlight kissing Autumn leaves.

The cry, ‘Alive, Alive, Alive.’

We are rain and river, sky and sea.

We are Dance of gravity.

Plucking apples, spinning planets, rolling tides.

We are Dance of dark and light,

shadow puppets cast upon a glittering stage.

We are the arm that moves the hand that moves the mouth.

We are within, without, above, below, west, north, east, south.  

We are the smell of almonds, we are the dove and door. 

We are that. 

We are the Dance. 

We are the thing we’re looking for.