She wanders, lost, barefoot, cold. Dreams swirl around her, but she'll never see them. Colors mix together, dancing, prancing. Swirls of light. Hard dirt road. Destinations unknown. Always so lost. The gods of the sky would know what to do, but there is no Zeus here. Only the dreams, the phantoms, the illusion of what might be. The road goes on forever, only a dark whiff of the future to be seen. She doesn't trudge, never trudges. Instead she dances. Through the trees, past the terrors, interwoven with the dreams. Her dance grows frantic, elevating. Bare feet on rough stone, over roots and grass. Around trees, touching every part of this miraculous world. The dreams hint at danger, darkness, failure. Still she dances, lost in this life. She's only young once. A leap, a twirl. Her hair follows her, shining with the sun, dancing just as she does. All there is is the dance. The dreams threaten, but still she dances. Over troubles, ignoring fear. Tiptoe over heartbreak, poverty, terrors. She ignores, and her world fades more, shadows eat the light. Still she dances. Devouring, overtaking, souring. The shadows already warned. Her dance falters, stumbles, and breaks. And the dreams cry.
(note: this was based off the song "In the Hall of the Mountain King"
View User's Journal
x-pianist-x
 |
Piano Kisses
Community Member |
