With Gods And Angels

Dark dancers crawl out of my depths,

Swinging their arms behind my eyes and flicking their heelsIn tight pirouettes around my heart.

As I breathe in, their dance turns into a heated frenzy.

As I breathe out, they fade into smoky shadow.

They leave only the faintest trace of their tumultuous existence inside me:

A deep nod of my head, a graceful sweeping of my foot,

A trickling laugh that leaps from my lips...

A deed of kindness that turns my steady heartbeat

Into a hollow gourd drum beating out a wild rhythm

That sends me romping playfully through my days and nights.

The dark dancers always come, with sharp beautiful faces

And crowns of thorns nestled into their thick hair.

I release the leaping, weeping, keening dancers

Even as they call for me to fall into their bony, familiar arms.

I do not wish to hear the tapping of their feet for more than the blink of my eyes,

Because pain is sweet only in the first moments

Like the deep red of sudden sunrise.

I prefer to dance alone with deep breaths and slow, measured movements

Like the moon in its cycle through the sky,

Like foamy waves rising, curling, and whispering down onto the sand.

The dark dancers are my inspiration to keep cavorting across sunny wooden floors,

To smell flowers with every ounce of my concentration,

To dive into my Self as I dive into the ocean,

as I plunge into my bed at night,

As I fall into the arms of my friends and family,

As I plunge into Grace and kick up my heels in the valleys of the Milky Way

With the Present Moment playing fine spun music in my ears,

As I romp all night, all day, with gods and angels.