The Dance Maker
"We are the dance master, the dance maker and the dance."
The Dance Maker
My past is a fractured past – a broken barren landscape of losses and disappointments.
Our past is a fractured past – littered with the suffering of millions. Is it our responsibility to remember it for it is engraved in the archetypes we live, consciously and unconsciously?
We all have broken hearts. It seems that we can only love with broken hearts. We all have lame legs and twisted feet. It seems that we can only dance when accepting our imperfections and imbalances. It is only then that we can remove the veil of the sun in front of the universe to be in the night-time, where we maybe can get to see beyond, like in Sabra Field’s quote.
Somewhere in the deep of the Karoo
An old woman is struggling a dream-dance
With fractured hips and twisted feet
On a small and kithless globe
Drifting in boundless space
The dance maker is watching her every move
With faraway eyes looking into the night
Of the darkest black, moving his lithe body
Like a serval, touching the air
In multivariant octopi- arm movements
He, the dance master, moving with such abandon -
She, challenging her existence
In the dark chaos of contradiction
Stumbling over the serpentine sidesteps
In a choreography that eludes her
As she is, so she sees
The time in her, a rushing river beyond control
And feel the inner torrent
Caught up in a fissure
In a broken barren battlefield
And she dances love with a broken heart
And a fractured past
Timeless in white skirt and tights
On a marbled floor, drawing away the veil of the sun
In front of the universe - becoming night-time