We are always dancing
in the biggest ballroom
even if we know
the movements not
every moment a step
or glide or falter,
hip-hop waltz
twist foxtrot
and that golden light
we move in mystery to
emanates each night
from an open ceiling,
the highest altar,
when we cease
all effort
as the music of the kind
band leader pours forth
sweet honey from amber
trumpets onto tired
somber hearts.
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