The curtains draw closed.
The stage silent.
A dance taken with the most delicate of steps. Missed footing, hoping no one noticed.
A bow of exhaustion.
A surrender in the bowing.
Eyes look up. Darkness around.
Stillness. Breaths ragged. Exhaustion heavy.
In the middle of the bow, the breaking happens.
A giving of everything too much. Too heavy.
A quiet chord is struck and the music begins again. Slow. Cautious.
Because the dance doesn’t end until one day it finally does.
But until that moment, our feet twist and turn and trip and fall.
Muscles learning new movement.
The navigation of new steps and paths unexpected.
The song never ending with the orchestrator of all things.
He writes notes only we can sing and move to. Notes we never saw coming.
A page all our own.
The beauty in the utter madness.
The light in the seeming impenetrable darkness.
The partner we dream of.
The One worth dancing with.