In the matchless dance of life
There is discernment of death.
A quieting
Where once
A lively stepping,
A calming
Of intense pursuit.
The high wire of our being
Held taut at either end,
Slackens
Even as it quivers
With the music of our souls.
The dance goes on.
Tempo alters
But not melody.
Life and death entwine
In destined harmony.
Copyright © 1994 by Doris N. Sutton
