hands held high,
she wheels
and turns
lost in dance.
or, more truly found.
in a blur
the barest 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 breathes —
unbound.
