By Luis G. Dato

Movement, there’s buoyant movement in the dance,
A grace and gay abandon, gift divine,
And as we view it we fall in a trance
Like one drunk of some rare, exotic wine.

And we behold the wings of magic melody,
Until the things that are, the things that seem
Blend in the fusion of the earth and sky
To grace the sight and bid the soul to dream.

The elegance, the poise as though at dawn
The flowers await the coming of the sun,
And spread their petals open to the lawn
When the dark shadows of the night are gone.

And then the aspiration to the height
And depth of spirit carried o’er so far
On wings of fancy poised in furtive flight,
As though a rose pursued a beckoning star.

The fairy sprite, with her we now intrude
Into the sacred privacy of art,
And turn away from earth in wistful mood,
Full knowing she has lured away our heart.

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