Dance and the Dancer

Where words do not reach,
Where thought itself stumbles,
Where nestled in complete surrender,
Rests unbridled joy,
There blossometh the fragrance divine,
There the body becometh spirit,
Thence is born the primeval Dance.
Thus man spake of the Gods,
And thus the Gods speaketh through man.

A humming bee in the midst of spring bloom became a poem.
A darting glance of a lover became an epic.
The summer night’s moon shining in a lotus pond became the world,
Never a thought of tomorrow, never a past there has been,
For what joy is there, in that we do not have now?
The dance is the story of the universe,
The dancer tells, nay, he becomes the universe.


- Sudheesh