--what is left of the fire
is a stream of smoke
rising, ebbing
a thousand ridges
raised
ravines twisted, degraded
a thousand ribbons
dancing
O, dancer--oh twirler
oh spinner--
my mind's eye
watching from the corner
and peering through the crowd
man, I have danced the shadow
of the dance across these walls
I have stomped and slid through
winter
I have bowed to fall
in spring, I flung
myself forward
in summer
I bent forward, I wove slowly
to the beat of the sun
and did it all once more
lost more than I won
man, I have whirled past
my very last partner
--the dance now done
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