Dance (a poem)

Dance, in stoic consciousness

or even when the heart is sorry or numb

chasing away the melancholy and the aftermath of

that which is so undisguised

Dance, till the night breaks into dawn

smoke the fury of your desire

puff it away all night long

savoring all what lies within your head

and killing all that is unwanted

dance with ecstasy and it is free for you,

only for this year’s dancers!

take down the limitations

shovel down the pathways of fury

dance, as there is nothing much we can do

but to look fuzzy, doped or restless

drive away the present into

a hallucinating view of tomorrow

that could be pristine and beautiful, if you may

dance, fool yourself with extreme pleasure

and experience the exclusiveness of

being fooled, by your own deportment

dance and let you shine in your own universe