And she dances with her skin. Bearing the earth breaths. Dancing to disappear. Chase the lights away. Fall addicted to the silence. And he watches her move her soul. Gazing upon the grace under the lighted darkness. Carefully whispering the lines. 'And I feel you'. Pushing her feet to the ground. 'How can you feel when I move. When every elevation is of reasons. How can you feel when you know of no reasons'.
Mother is a dancer. Faithfully affecting her body to a story. A beautiful rhythm where people enjoy in the dark.
I rarely dance. Especially in front of people. As I have no story to tell. No rhythm to sway you close to me.
I long to move. With the air and the trees. Serenading me to peace.
Once you see me dance with my skin, then it is of my expectation, to have you see me through.
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