The Dance

Morning grey
The sky awaits a crimson orb
And the dew drops yearn to shine

A pregnant silence
Thousand eyes, an empty stage
And she clutches the curtains to hide

A blank sheet
The dusty typewriter wonders why
Boundaries of words, painful to find

Two empty hands
Two new lovers strolling, stirring
That very first touch, passionately shy

Silence awaits the world to dance...

A sunbeam bursts to touch the drop
As she tinkles onto stage
The writer pushes the rusty letters
The dance begins to create

The drop rises to join the troupe
Thats preparing the monsoon dance
Sunlight and shadow shift and swoop
As the hands entwine, an era starts

The rapture of the audience told
The enchantment of her dance
Curtained fear to passion sold
Nonchalantly, she moved in trance

'Inspiration is a tiny matchstick
Not a ruffians show of swords'
His soul breathed aglow with fire
That burnt his sheet through words

Sweaty palms but refuse to leave
The touch of love so new
As breath takes its own sweet course
Such moments are but few

Dance!
Dance to the beats of very first rains
Dance to the passion in your veins
Dance to the spark of inspiration
And to that love so insane

Oh soul my soul!
Dance to the awakening of light in leaves
And to the creation of a masterpiece
Take love your partner, breathe the beat
Dance in turmoil, dance in peace