Wheels of Shadow and Stone

Briefly, we linger at the threshold:
Passing through flickering form.
Silence draped with dew upon the fingertips of the trees
In a cast of light.

For each there is a secret reason;
A sinew, destined to weave.
Beneath the hidden flesh and lips,
There is a living ferocity
Waiting to spring.

It is for us,
The frenzied heat of love.
We who dance: clanging bells
Sweating; wringing the flesh
Like cotton.

This untameable Beauty,
Whose shining overturns,
In wheels of shadow and stone.