I met a girl who sparkled like silver

dancing amidst a great war of generations.

She slid smoothly across a battleground, leaving scorching trails of red flame behind her, and

my eyes were captivated, and my soul enraptured

by the way she passed, unscathed, through the chaos.

She crooned to me in a voice of shadowy steel,

“you don’t need God or man,

just one dance to make you feel whole again;”

and I believed

because the ground underneath was already destroyed,

littered with mines and wrought with disease and choked by the roots of trees

that no longer grow.

because the earth was ripped to shreds from the inside out,

and there was such beauty in symmetry.

 

So we danced the nights away

Slowly at first, spinning

once

twice

three

t i m e s, then faster

until I had to take my leave, with the memory of her strange ballet carved into my head

and our marks left burning along the ground.

Yet the wholeness she had promised, that had tempted my heart, was false

and I felt just as broken as I always had.

Desperate, I sought once more the remedy of that witch doctor

demanding that she give me what I needed

but all she could offer was another dance.

 

As the snow fell calmly, she spun me into a frenzy

whipping around until the landscape blurred and receded

and I could no longer remember why I had come.

Finally the sun rose again

illuminating the flaming, scarred ground

Still I felt no stronger, but all she did

was laugh.

 

Finally I banished

that nefarious sorceress, whose elixirs always failed me

and who destroyed my landscape while promising repair with her iniquitous whispers

I sent her far away, swearing that she would never again return, never again desecrate

this land that has been granted by God.

 

Yet even now, she beats immortal

against the walls that I have put up against her

powerful temptation in her silver voice; urging, begging, pleading with me to return to her steely embrace

countless times I have turned away, refusing to listen to her serpentine fabrications, shutting my eyes to her willowy movements, trying to resist;

but still, in those shadowy outskirts, in that great wasteland,

she dances on.

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