hands held high,
she wheels
and turns
lost in her dance.
or, more truly found.
in a blur, flashes
of bronze skin
bleed through
white linen
as she spins around.
each revolution
a prayer
which transforms
barren sand
into sacred ground.
in adoration
to devotion’s pure
ecstatic gift
even gods and demons
must bow.
and caught
up in her bliss
my soul
can finally breathe —
unbound.
