Dance

As we live in the stolid, callous material world we might develop a nagging suspicion that some undiscovered truth lies in the intangible portions of our dwelling. A draught of wind, a ripple upon some pebble's intrusion into water, or a strange sound from the bellows of a musical instrument from a hitherto unknown culture. Indeed what is culture itself but an increasing and inherited accumulation of perceived differences, even as the intangible common essence of humanity struggles to rip apart the veil! What a noble testament to the ability of music to sabotage the seams, when I behold a nymphette gyrating to the Conga while no part of her yellow drips away. For all we can surmise, the gift of tongues might have befallen on the raptured audience, who begin to acquire a thick Hispanic accent in praise of our supreme dancer. Watch as she transforms each sashay into a mudra, showering endless meanings upon your desires. How much would you give to partake of this fascinating trance, to enter this mystical moment of intangibility, whereupon a nibble of undiscovered truth may seek audience with the Majesty of your mind?