The Dancer

She spins around in the meadow Hands outstretched, dress whirling around her bare legs. Her eyes are closed. She spins and dances on. Small bright flowers dot her hair She wears a simple white dress But she radiates power, beauty, grace She spins and dances on. She dances on a green meadow Flowers blanket the long green grass And sunlight streams through, a spotlight She spins and dances on. She looks incredibly free More free than a bird soaring above And indeed, she can fly away too. She spins and dances on. Innocence. Her face young forever Tall dark trees protect her Protected from society, from evil. She spins and dances on. She does not know the word "cry" Or "tears" or "hate" or "anger" She knows only endless love She spins and dances on. Alone in the forest But together with Life itself Together with her Soul, her Spirit She spins and dances on. She suddenly spins quicker Twirls rapidly, dances as if she was burned. And yet, unbelievably, She spins and dances on. But alas! Her mouth, opened with surprise Pain crosses her face, the impossible: She vanishes into the still air She spins and dances on But only in our imagination.