dancing with stars
Aug. 19th, 2009 09:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
okiekookieTrails of red, crimson, gold: fiery
passions billowing across her skin – it
shines of peonies basking in the sun (or perhaps
she is that of herself, younger glory of it all) – and
the smile of a thousand glistening seashells.
She does pirouettes – fast
Burning with fury,
Yet gentle with grace, occasionally
Stumbling though, for she lacks experience. But
She cannot fall; cannot give in. So
She continues to spin
We dance – the ferociousness of the
Tango, Waltz, Cha Cha (all decked in heels with inches
that supersede Saturn’s rings). We go faster –
I guide, she follows. Better than auroras, greater than
Mount Olympus, mightier than Jupiter’s storms. We
were an unstoppable force of tornadoes and hurricanes
that left scents of dry parched grass and
withering trees wherever we go – the
asteroid belts, Milky ways, constellations above
the endless mass.
And then she burns, brighter than
ever. Our pace quickens – she learns fast. Now,
I follow, she leads the way – through
planets and galaxies far beyond the seven seas and
the crystalline fields of Earth. We go faster,
Until supersonic was not enough, until we were of
a blur of golden beams shining
through the heavenly bodies. Zapping our
way through time, bending laws of Physics when we
were as one.
But then she slows down, the wrinkles
of age creeps up (maybe it was from the never-ending
Ballet of celestial dreams?). Her hair trickles
down to soft hues of dry ashes – her face fades; still
beautiful though. But she could no longer
keep up. And slowly she lets go: starts to spin again,
in a different manner. Now she goes in and whirls
and transforms into nothingness – attracting
anything that comes her way - like magnets from
a broken pole. (Maybe it
was to break apart from monotony?)
I watched her, with my silver eyes alight - no sorrow,
pity (lack emotions). Until
She no longer spins, until her ashes were pulled
Into that wave of
emptiness.
passions billowing across her skin – it
shines of peonies basking in the sun (or perhaps
she is that of herself, younger glory of it all) – and
the smile of a thousand glistening seashells.
She does pirouettes – fast
Yet slow;
Burning with fury,
Yet gentle with grace, occasionally
Stumbling though, for she lacks experience. But
She cannot fall; cannot give in. So
She continues to spin
And spin
And spin.
And I take her hand.
We dance – the ferociousness of the
Tango, Waltz, Cha Cha (all decked in heels with inches
that supersede Saturn’s rings). We go faster –
I guide, she follows. Better than auroras, greater than
Mount Olympus, mightier than Jupiter’s storms. We
were an unstoppable force of tornadoes and hurricanes
that left scents of dry parched grass and
withering trees wherever we go – the
asteroid belts, Milky ways, constellations above
the endless mass.
And then she burns, brighter than
ever. Our pace quickens – she learns fast. Now,
I follow, she leads the way – through
planets and galaxies far beyond the seven seas and
the crystalline fields of Earth. We go faster,
And faster,
And faster.
Until supersonic was not enough, until we were of
a blur of golden beams shining
through the heavenly bodies. Zapping our
way through time, bending laws of Physics when we
were as one.
But then she slows down, the wrinkles
of age creeps up (maybe it was from the never-ending
Ballet of celestial dreams?). Her hair trickles
down to soft hues of dry ashes – her face fades; still
beautiful though. But she could no longer
keep up. And slowly she lets go: starts to spin again,
in a different manner. Now she goes in and whirls
and transforms into nothingness – attracting
anything that comes her way - like magnets from
a broken pole. (Maybe it
was to break apart from monotony?)
But not me.
I watched her, with my silver eyes alight - no sorrow,
pity (lack emotions). Until
She no longer spins, until her ashes were pulled
Into that wave of
emptiness.
And I walk away.
