By Elmer
Date: 15 March 2001
Butterfly
A wound within this music,
scab upon the stage,
crumpled heap of shredded cloth,
human not have made.
Darkness, centered, weighted down,.
movement stirs these twisted rags,
broken, disjointed life is born,
contorting shape, music fuels its rage.
Slowly taking its grotesque, erotic feet,
it awaits in motionless human shape.
standing patient for a key
one of release from pupae state.
Out of music, soft, grand,
rose a single pulse of sweetest sound
haunting rich, perfection of pitch,
the thing upon the stage began to pound.
Separate from, yet entwined
it and the music began to play,
teasing lilt of laughing swirl
was matched by this dancing fae.
Rags flutter start to lift,
breathing soft a butterfly,
beauty born ready to soar,
music gives a belated cry.
She has caught music to begin her flight,
play time over, now it can commence
this struggle for mastery, music or form
perfection of music, perfection of dance.
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