It was never one step and then another.
It was never left then right nor right then left.
It was never a sequence.
You ask me how I remember, but there are no words, only movements.
My thoughts don't tell me the next step;
My body transforms into the next motion; emotion.
The moves are feelings of placement, but mostly soul.
The step and lyrics might be sad, but I don't feel 'sad', I don't think 'sad'.
The movement IS the emotion's core; itself.
I'm speaking a language without words.
In that moment my body becomes something too pure for mere words.
If there is a God, this is how he speaks:
No words, No connection mind-to-mind.
Only music as breath and dance as unaltered, unpolluted essence of all that there is.
I cannot teach you what you ask, I cannot teach you to dance.
I can only show you the movement, the rest you must discover on your own.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
enjoyable. spontanity must not be left out in the cold either. john