the ghost of your own life that dances
to an echoed long ago,
hopes within a living phantom,
cursed and blessed and even so,
you walk. although a stumbling planner,
life is more, and less, than chance —
but you travel, weary, always,
hearing her voice calling you
to dance
To share is human:
Love this poem, so much said in so few words. So life is a dance… and oh, how we stumble..