A single heart beats
while a second one aches
and another is cold and alone.

Somewhere one is loved,
and their friend knows what it is,
but is unable to call it their own.
Another longs for their love,
and their love knows,
but she cannot have him,
and the pain clearly shows.

We go through this life,
constantly searching for our special someone,
who we can stay with forever,
instead of being alone.

Some don't deserve this luxury,
the one of many names,
"love," "amour," "liebe,"
And some deserve it immeasurably so,
yet it eludes them.
For how long?
Who could know?

None of us wish to be forgotten,
we wish for the same thing.
It is a game,
one full of heartbreak,
regrets and tears.
But do not fret,
oh precious one,
The one for you is out there,
searching just as hard.
If you're lucky,
One day you'll find each other,
and all that led up to then,
won't have been for naught.

A single heart beats
while a second one aches
and another is cold and alone.
One knows love,
while another knows it not.
Somewhere a heart has hope,
and perhaps not far,
a heart has lost it's way.

No matter the situation,
their experience,
or lack thereof,
all of them want one thing,
and that is to be loved.

So now, precious one,
listen to my words,
go out into the world,
and always remember,
to never give up,
and you will find love.

I twirl around,
arms and legs moving in sync.
Breathing deeply, I repeat the motion,
and when I mess up,
I laugh at myself.

My head whips around and my eyes search
for the spot of which I focus.
Once more I spin,
and finally,
I come to a stop.

Reality washes over me,
I'm not in a dance studio,
rather, I'm in my room.
"That was then," I mutter,
"this is now. No more."

But I still reminisce,
recall those happy memories.
I continue to forget the steps,
and how to do them.

When I'm alone,
and my mind wanders,
I sometimes think about those days.
From the sound of the music,
and my aching muscles,,
to the jokes or complaints,
and the instructions from the teacher.

And sometimes I search.
I look through my mind for all that I learned,
and I look through the house for them,
My leotards, tights, ballet shoes.

When I can't find them,
it makes my heart ache.
I miss the days of dance,
Ballet, tap, and jazz classes.
I remember my friends,
those I haven't seen since.
I recall the rush of the stage,
and wondering if I'd change fast enough.

You know that saying?
The one about dancers?

Allow me to tell you,
its the truth.
Once a dancer,
ALWAYS a dancer...

At least until you forget...

We all live, we are all the same,
We are different, we are human.

We all feel, we all hurt, cry, love...
So tell me, why do we hate?
Hate each other and our differences?

We are unique, we are one.
We are separate, we are equal.
We are men, we are women, and children.

We are black, white, Asian, or European,
Perhaps American, or even something else.

I am me, and you are you.
A sister is a sister, a brother a brother.
A parent is a parent, for life.

You don't have to like it,
but that's the way it is.

We all have each other, but we also have nobody.
We have everything, and nothing.

Tell me, do you see the fragility of it all?

We have dreams, we have hopes,
and wishes.
We despair and we  mourn,
though sometimes, we rejoice.

Can you understand how lucky we are?

We all feel emotions, and we're all equals.

We're simply human,
nothing more, and nothing less.

So then tell me, why all the fuss?