Like in a ballet of Bolshoi
She dances round and round
Lost in a galaxy of glittering stars

Like a shaman by a feverish fire
She goes round and round
The sun for her warmth and glow

Like a smitten little puppy
The moon goes round and round
Her for love and in utter devotion

But in the midst of it all

Like a whirling dervish
She spins round and round
In a dance of venerating trance

To the Grand Choreographer;
Never seen, but always conducting