ThEnDance (Sort of Dead)

ThEnDance (Sort of Dead)

”The dance at the end
Our memories and genetics – will they transcend?
What’s left of the impact we leave behind?
The matrix of life – does it fully unwind?
How are we then able to know?
When death reveals its face – do we all glow?
The insatiable hope that our actions aren’t in vain
That we’ll find a storage facility in some Human brain
Our lives are all but smoke cast into the air
Wishing to be smelled by the nose of those that dare
A compatible willingness to be remembered by the spices of our scent
Various pictures of our taste set aside as a tent in one’s mind
We all long to be remembered with a nostalgic bind
Experiences, memories, and our written history are the makeup of our lives
The dance floor is where we release – our collective archives”

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Passion.

“Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping… waiting… and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir… open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us… guides us. Passion rules us all. Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love… the clarity of hatred… the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we’d be truly dead.”

– ENCOURAGEMENT FROM  MISS (X)UGAB