Monday, July 4, 2011

slow dance

Suddenly there is music, though it is not the song that the band are hacking after. There is music, though it is not the tune stepped on again and again. They spin together, all touch and sight. They twirl together, though all the world might burn. They dance together, slow and lush. They do not dance because there is music. There is music because they dance.

All the world can tell, just seeing them together. It is a story of time and struggles, a romance of broken rhymes and tear streaked letters. Those movie story moments surviving the meeting with real life. From across a crowded room to the cross-hairs of the day to day, they have endured, scathed but undiminished. Something lovely lives, entangled in their grasp. Something magic endures in their touch.

Some feelings burn, some feelings smolder. Some feelings are extinguished before anyone knows they were there. Words spill, sifted through worn teeth and busy lips. Words dust the world, chasing after idea and object, making claims and slipping wishes. We say forever, we say love. We speak and speak, playing Marco Polo with the whole wild world. They do not shed one single word. They join hands and everything is revealed. They dance, the music playing on and on.

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