dance macabre

[errantepoch]

what is the pulse but a rhythm
one your heart mandates
and your soul follows

a beat a stir an echo
surging forward in myriad dance
whispering to you of life

the whisper is instinct
it calls your eyes away
gazing past yourself

there is another
she moves before you
quick now are you the hunter or the hunted
you've guessed predator, you might be prey

this is the dance
and its tune ever haunting
reminds you to forget

it reminds you to forget

love and life just a dance macabre

-EE