September 2013

A song has lost its tune and the dancers are gypsy minds in a day of rain, astral colours exploding like thunder on a rainbow, and spirit is quietly questioning the lack of living in the day, it hides in the corner, on a morning of tranquil ease, it lurks in that corner, waiting for its moment, looking inwardly for the time for its action, and spirit must lose control, and it must be free, its eyes are on a search, through darkness and into the sparkling sky, the sky of the past, the sky of memory, infinity is asking questions of a single moment, a moment that is a single day, dancers still, weave their patterns to the song, the tune will be recovered, it will emerge and it will live again, and the spirit will find its freedom and will not be dictated to by the disappointment of a single one day in September in the year of 2013.