Dance

Where a waterfall of frosted moonlight
pooled down through delicately tumbling leaves,
a young maiden danced with calm passion
to the silent music of ancient trees.

Arms raised to the diamond-studded sky,
she stood motionless for a heartbeat,
while earthen power raged through her veins,
and warmed her blood up with its heat.

Then in the dark hours of the night,
she began to turn gently ‘round
amidst leaves that spiraled upwards
without the barest hint of sound.

And as the hours crawled by
she slowly increased her pace,
until her dance became fierce,
and sweat glossed her lovely face.

Then she pulled out her knives,
and took a fighting stance,
and she swiftly whirled ‘round,
and danced a warrior’s dance.

A blade in each hand,
she lunged and then lashed,
and furiously
she spun and she slashed.

Knives arced above,
down and around
and her light feet
touched not the ground.

Then she looked
to the moon,
and she danced
to its tune.

Dance ceased,
world stilled;
her task
fulfilled.