Ballerina No More

The sweet tinkling of the little bells
reminiscent of Innocence, lost to us
forever by the pillaging Age
rampant in his devouring rage
and what we see now is nothing
but rust and regret

(picture courtesy of



And once upon a time in this fairyland
here lives a boy along this lane
who yearns for something
yet unknown to him because the only thing
he knows is that his heart has been aching, aching terribly

And one fine day, along this lane
merrily hops this little girl
a sweet seraph exuding heavenly charm which
might blind the eyes that can see and
stops the heart that can beat

Thank goodness then, you say
for that little boy who lives along the lane
cannot see since he is blind but heaven forbid!
for he feels that which cannot see, through his skin
or his heart one cannot say (for I was never him)

But I see or saw this little girl, who was skipping along this lane
offered to him her tiny little hand,
I will lead you where you want to go, she merrily says
so honeyed was her voice, melodious and inviting that
who could resist but those that canst hear? or those that canst feel?

Sadly and terribly (yes it was very sad indeed for those of you who think otherwise)
neither of these was the boy
and with a resolute yes, he speaks
I will take your hand
and you will lead me into lands unknown and pastures untrodded upon
where we will laugh and make merry in the sweet-smelling fields forever
That was what he said for so taken was he.

Last seen was he holding the girl’s pale little hand
walking into the sunset yonder with nary a worry on his back
And for good or bad, we will never know for never was another word heard
from that little boy who lived along this lane.

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