Still rest

In black and white,

A stilled pose.

An art quiet

After the crescendo rose.

A dance completed,

Resting in shadowed light.

The passion of the heart

Pushing to the impossible height.

The elegance of simple movement

Transformed to a thing of beauty.

The joy of airborne flight,

A work of love truly.

Now, still life, caught in silence,

Adding support for pursuit beyond her fragility.

The dancer rests for the moment,

Seeking solitude for the individuality

From whence the response must come

To celebrate the music she hears inside.

Resting in black and white shadows,

Seeking the passion where her art abides.

Seeking herself.

Comments 1 comment

Bren 5 years ago

Beautiful. Ballet is such a lovely art form but, so painful for the dancers. This writing is truly exquisite and a lovely picture to compliment the words.

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