waltz

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Why taunt such things as sweet as Death? When one could waltz right in? Why flirt with the edge of infinity When you can dive in, head first?
            Slowly, we dance our waltz, One two three, one two three, on and on, But I’m on two when you’re on one, And I know how this dance ends,             Slowly, the music builds,
Poetry is a wild creature. Like a bird in flight or a beast on the prowl. It does not answer for its words. Nor does it answer the questions that we pose it. Poetry simply becomes.
Absorbed in the delicate three beat rhythm While lost in her eloquent dance, She gracefully whirled from one spot to the next Never planning her steps in advance.
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