new dance

Photo by Carol Jean Townsend

  There is a moment when you cease to moping and say, “Enough of this, let the dance begin,”
  and you lift up your pipes or your guitar or your tambourine or clap your hands and raise your arms and just let out the energy in your soul,
  a precious melody a joyous shout a harmonic convergence of all the love you ever felt and all the want and all the give
  and oh what a dance you dance and oh what a song you sing and where have you been, all my love of life, it’s good to feel you again.

It is a dance with a bit of an ache for what’s lost, 
but a dance with a hint of a smile of remembrance, 
for the dance will never be the same again, 
but the new dance will have it own sparkle, 
and the new dance will find its own way, 
and the new dance will soak up the best of the old 
and find its own moment in time.

And when the melody’s spent and the lyrics are spoken, 
the magic is fading and the spells have been broken, 
the happiness gained with the new dance’s rhythms 
will settle like fine wine on grateful old souls. 
No melancholy can last against a dance such as this, 
and the sobs over loss turn to sobs of relief 
with a smile through the tears that can’t be denied 
and life goes on — life resumes — 
built on a foundation more solid than we knew at the time.

What are these tears, then? What is the point?
The sun shines on memories and present moment alike —
the memories feed the moment and make it more rich
than it ever could be without them —
the moment more precious for what came before
and the future shines waiting —
let’s go explore

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