Keep dancing, love, keep dancing. Don’t let your
bitter wonder hold you back. Reward flows
from chancing motion—so soothsayers, pure
in their vision through crystal, seem to know,
predict as if decision and passion
both erupt from soul’s one subduction zone,
pouring forth through blood, muscle, skeleton,
igniting graceful leaps, closed position
marrying us to great music. Oh, hold
me as I hold you, welcoming our waltz,
lost in our embrace, inspired to risk bold
whirls and dips, mouths near gasping as we pause.
Your shy eyes glance away, and I recall
past lives in Renoir’s Bal à Bougival.
Roger Armbrust
November 27, 2009
