It was called "The Right Of Spring"
I was scared, excited, elated
Taking my place on the stage above the footlights,
I shook, like an earthquake of the soul
I'd danced this piece several times before, but never in front of such a number of eyes
The other dancers seemed fine
We'd practiced for 8 months for this particular show
We were to perform twice daily, for 3 days
Hard, excruciating work
But such is the dance
I began to sweat profusely, I felt the blood draining from my face
And right at the second turn,
I hit the floor with a thud.
Becoming human

softy I SPEAK in sweetest
whispers TO THEE fondly...
truly. AND devoted am I to prove
that I  love THEE by Jove!

the Universe IS HER center stage
above AND below.
for SHE IS THEE my little dove
snowy white AND pure,
her beauty to be admired.
she is the one TO WHOM I REFER with glee.

i ask god, COULD SHE BE with me
for AS MUCH as an eternity?
she has crashed INTO ME so i am a
                               wreck.
it seems AS I AM INTO HER? we shall
.                                 see.

if yes AND IF SO, i want her
to respect THEN THIS PLEA FROM ME
which comes sadly
now WITH WOEFUL but happy
falling TEAR, hopefully my
affections WILL NOT GO TOO LONG
being that
call that goes UNANSWERED HERE, that
would be
regrettable.

i pray FOR HER SILENCE to go away
perhaps because it HURTS to be
forgettable.
yet it BUT IS what it is.
such beauty is RARE i must admit.

SO FAR AWAY!           YET SO NEAR!

we are where we are
BUT I WISH YOU WERE NEARER, DEAR!

BECAUSE it is in
EACH DOMINION
that ON SUCH OCCASION
you MUST UNWIND, your soul
SO AS TO
solely BE a sole
fragrance that is REBORN IN THE
MORNING SHINE, this day and the
next RETURNING AS
GLORIOUS AND AS FRESH AS THE NEW DAY
SKY, that is my wish.

AND you THEREUPON SHOULDST CARRY
ON upon a dream WITHOUT IMPERFECT
MOAN OR a mightier SIGH of loveliness.

I PLEAD WITH THEE TO MANUMIT YOUR
TIGHTENED CLASP THAT BINDS, you
sadly in slavery. now REST YOUR
WEARY HEAD A BIT ON MINE, AND EASE
INTO PLEASANT REVERIES with only me.

After ALL, THE DUSK you trust
HAS COME rightly
TO GIVE REST TO THEE, AND I
AM but what i am. i am
**YOURS AND YOURS AM I
--I AM RESTFUL SLEEP.

Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour,
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu.
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of naught
Save where you are, how happy you make those.
    So true a fool is love that in your will,
    Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.

Each night I die a little more,
Each day I wake alone as b4.