The Stolen Dance.

Unable to capture it,⠀

I let go,⠀

Knowing it all,⠀

Washes away,⠀

One day.⠀

What do I wish to create?⠀

Not to perform,⠀

or parade.⠀

I wish to feel, sense,⠀

and create,⠀

With joy.⠀

I wish to be an artist,⠀

Wandering around,⠀

With sand running through,⠀

Her hands.⠀

Art doesn’t make any sense,⠀

I sense what I long to create. ⠀

I just don’t get it.⠀

Results steal away,⠀

The need to play.⠀

The desire to create,⠀

Never fades away.⠀

I wish to be,⠀

joyfully alive,⠀

Today.⠀