There is a beauty that comes from seeing
a flower dancing in the wind with the
leaves that follow.
It's no different with ballet.
For the art comes from the music within a soul
and the mortal coil brings it to light with
enchanting dances.
For I see myself in a the blank canvas of a theatre
and the Swan Queen graces the canvas as the brush,
with raw love expressed not from her body but her heart.
As she spreads her wings, I can hear the words behind her moves,
the flame that twirls with kaleidoscope wonders.
"I am here," the voice says. "Don't you see? I am here! I am free!
I am freedom!"
And as the Swan dies, broken but content, the crowd erupts
like thunder in the Heavens.
"For you see now," the voice echoes as I claps. "You see now.
The secret language within a soul that passion can only bring out."