Let us dance, my love, beneath this fertile moon. Let us open our hearts, our minds, ourselves, to the wild and the wanton.
There is blood on this dark tide, you know this well. While your mind is a jumble, confused and contradicting itself, you will dance, a whirling dervish, at my command.
Something alien runs in your veins. It is true, I confess, but only a small device I have. We must bring you to the point of ecstasy so your very blood sings with the rhythms of our universe. As you dance, my love, you call down spirits and angels and demons in your wake. They fall as starlight to the ground, sprinkling us with unearthly grace.
Your last dance my love, you know this too, in the dimmer recesses of your mind. Yet you cavort, you twirl, you come to us. You have no choice. You must obey. The music draws you down, down to our altar, down to the ritual, down to your very essence.
Let us dance your last dance, my love, on this earthly realm. For from tonight you dance with the stars, alone and beautiful, born on a blood-red tide to our promised home.
(c) Helen M Valentina 2015
Man. The sacrifice metaphor is strong.
Thanks John! 🙂
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