As the sunset echoes wave across the horizon,
Apportioning in descending orbit certain evening calm,
Anon to arise from measured depths unseen by worldly eyes
To always battle that notion of tomorrow,
The heavenly bedsheets blaze God's purple into distant black,
And we, hand-in-soft-hand among half-moon friends
Rapt into a spiral whirlwind of woven human connection,
That lifts the crescent-company above God's vanishing bed.
Dance-sing-touch-celebrate another day well lived,
Resonated with the fundamental frequency's sinuous oscillation,
Struck firmly each moment in flesh, land, and sea,
That struggle-free must abided be.
Feet like drum sticks, we clock in chaotic concord
To commemorate the many lost and dead on this dying day,
Yield to the spinning disco stars our ceaseless attention
Drawing muscular moments into long sensuous hours.
At gentle glimmer's candle warmth anew on the polar shore,
The moon-time artists weary-worn settle to the terrestrial floor.
Grateful, God's smile punctures the hazed dawn,
Appreciating us dancers' surrender, with an open welcome, 'come on'.