Seeking the Feet

In the twilight

The ballet cries

For the lost symmetry:

The moving gems,

The facets etched,

The angles fleet.

Brisés, bright wings stretched;

Entrechat six,

Sharp as the sickle,

Brief as intuition;

Port de bras, dreams arising.

O swift steps,

Seeking the feet

In which to flower,

Where are the worshipers

To glorify your names?