Static notes linger in the air
just above the heads of the dancers,
Low drawn out cello notes absorb the darkness,
The stage falls into a black set.
One dim spot covers the dancers white skin,
Illuminating life.
The dancers move in unison,
morphing into one body.
The light follows the story around
Until the dancers twist the strings into submission
A final beat, then silence falls in the orchestra pit.
The breathing of the dancers and the
noise of their limbs in contact,
slapping skin to skin,
or skin to wood,
sinking, followed by the rise and fall.
Falling against the mirrored surface they appear twinned,
entwined, exhausted, the melody fades and
they beat their bodies against the percussion,
until the music builds again.
Pace picks up, a torrent of hurried movements,
He lifts his partner
effortlessly
above his head,
lost in a whirl of muscles and ragged costume edges.
Grease paint and pain,
Practised choreography
unseen rehearsals,
slip away
as the dancers caress their reflection
and the audience watch in awe.
From my seat
I make a silent wish
To the Gods of yesterday,
I want it still,
To be in the fading light of
the last dance.
Only those who have
will understand
what it is
to watch others
trace over the steps
you made.
). Anyone who wants to join in, is welcome. This photograph will be reblogged under 
awritersfountain 