Search this site
|Forty-seven listens to her music,
Open to the melody within.
Rich with revelation, she remains
The dancer, ever ready to begin,
Yielding to the moment's unchanged magic.
So is music ever an alembic,
Ethereal beneath one's tell-tale skin,
Viscerally abstract, the sea in chains,
Embassy of some angelic twin,
Not you, but you, elusive, endless, tantric.