Secret Dancers

A germinating seed extracted from the soil that loved and nourished its being, soon embarks on a journey of decay. A rabid pack of werewolves, guided by Soma's unfathomable new fancy, departs from its domain and soon loses its deadly bite. And who could imagine a polar bear parade around the equator? Or the beguiling curse of an albatross unleashed beyond the oceans? Equally daunting as all of the above, is the uprooting of my body, heart, soul and mind, from a territory that once rang of familiarity, where I engaged the morning breezes in rounds of pursuit, and the evening shadows with melancholic reverence. Granted, the new dwelling affords sufficient silence and serenity for my tastes, but has woe ever failed to befall on the shoulders of those who do not possess the roof above their wretched heads? And then! In some sadistic metonymic mockery, another part of me lies in wait to be extracted from its home. This dog in a manger, this petulant brat in a mustering of orphans, this trickle of salt in a sea of sugar, the one that does not chew, yet dons the cloak of one who faithfully does....begone with thee!