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The DanceMy mind is a tempest where rage the winds of thought; And careless passions thunder, never minding if they ought. Buoyed on rising floods birthed by cold rains of fear, A bolt of brightest hope brings a moment crystal clear.The Dance
What has beckoned such a squall to make a dwelling in my mind? Tis the dance of Lady Fate which brings a tempest of this kind. Though hindered we step lightly through the dance of her design, Each spin matches a melody conducted by Lord Time.
While roving o’er their floor, clothed in life’s simplic
by ~iitywygmah
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