|Waking, Walking, Singing, in the Next Dimension? 1979 by Morris Graves|
limbs move with nimble grace.
in the train of thoughts;
no myth can exist in the prairie-
you see a vault
but for us it is a space that never ends.
your throat may choke with emotional rapture of our beauteous dance,
we may crave for a trick
that will takes us to halls of fame.
"in the spirals of life, these is no beginning, nor is there an end"