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Dance of the Dead
As we grow we learn to dance, she says
And our dance is of the dead.
We do not choose whether to dance--
We must, and we do not question it.
Only do we choose who our partner is.
Mine I have chosen.
So what does this dance of life
Hold for us, but death?
What is the rhythm to which we move,
But the eternal beating of our hearts?
...An endless cycle of the dance,
The dance that does not end;
For dancing is for the living,
Which we are,
Yet our dance is of the dead,
Which we are.
The blood keeps flowing through our veins,
Just as our feet continue to move,
And our bodies continue to sway
We dance with the dead;
We ARE the dead.
Yet we walk;
Yet we dance.
We are living,
We are dancing;
We are mortal,
Yet we are undying.
"How wrong we were to think
That immortality meant
Never dying," she told me,
And I did not comprehend,
For I was not one of them.
I did not understand,
Until I became wrapped in them,
Until I began their dance.
A tainted angel leads us all,
Twirling her creation.
Tis she who tells me all these things,
Tis she who took me in.
For it was both she and my partner
Who brought me here,
And she who taught us both to dance.
Her people...her humanoids,
Her kingdom joins the ball,
Most dance in perfect harmony,
Yet some slip out of step.
But still we all careen
To this everlasting dance,
We dance that of the dead.
