Poets in Motion
Poets in Motion

A Series of Dances

by Zeek Levell 5 months ago in inspirational


A Series of Dances

The Sage dipped his feet in first, then made himself the wind

He twirled and swirled then

whispered to the world,

"In this departure, my love I send"...

Whether caught by your rage, or hung by your fear,

there’s a fighting truth, seeming hidden yet equally clear

Whether lost in the alley or wandering the streets

in biting cold or blistering heat…

there’s a series of dances we all must learn

whether or not we know or trust

the will of our shoes, the will of our feet

“I wish I understood your words”

says he who has no ears

“But it’s murder stepping up these stepping stones

of pain throughout the years”

But the dances are forever washing

Always wiping away

Cleaning the soul like cleaning the bowl;

And each moment is a brand new day

“I wish I understood your meaning”

says she without the spine

“But I have no stomach for the games of the beyond,

I simply haven’t the time”

Still… the dances sweep us up

Like winds across the plain

Casting us into the ocean

Then fishing us up again

“We were never so clever to be fooled by ourselves”

say they who drift apart

“We refuse to pay homage, to these invisible tribes with invisible treaties,

that rule the realm of our hearts”

Yet in visions, dreams, in moments of truth and illusions, it seems

to be always dances, dances, dances…

Everything in the universe is such, as to play a game with itself

It is seen to be broken, then mended for and tended to,

then put back on the shelf

Do you hear it?

The chants...

Do you feel it?

The Dance...

Round and round in a dervish flow

Flashing about, dashing about,

children of the cosmos, we're a stardust glow

Falling while dancing, dancing while falling

Up then down, in and out,

a universal human rehearsal...

It's an all too human roundabout

It is always a dance with a free invitation

Whether we accept it or not

It’s the process of getting to know ourselves

that is a priceless gem to the poverty of the soul

a solution neither sold nor bought

And it’s when we come dancing back round again,

to a place of great heights once yearned to be reached;

soon comes the time, with feet strong and arms long,

it’s a series of choices, a series of chances...

A series of dances… one must learn to teach

How does it work?
Read next: I Am A Bullet.
Zeek Levell

See all posts by Zeek Levell