Sway

[ludster]

   
    

Upon the snippings of time does its march finds its end.
The hourglass runs out of sand, the timer finds no more purchase,
and the minute finds no more seconds to progress.
   

   

Not many can say they know someone enough without seeing them dance. Yet, at times, many do wonder what I mean when I say this. Not everyone is gifted with the ability to sway their form in a uniform and beauteous concordance of rhythm and motion. However, there's always some satisfaction in me when I blatantly tell them that such a close-minded ideal is so traditional and old-fashioned.
   
Everyone is capable of dance.
  
It may not be the same dance that you and me are familiar with, yet one's advancement through life can be a dance in its own rite.
   
Well, one friend of mine has always danced their brightest. A flurry of movement that will forever be engraved in my memories. By no means were they as graceful as me, yet their efforts alone were enough to push even me to pursue further greatness. If anything had reminded me of such a star amidst the void, they unleash such a blinding visage that they sway like the lights of a lighthouse, guiding boats to their destination. An anchor they were, or at least that's what I'd like to think I'd call them. 
   
Yet, as I always know, all dances need an end. An eternal sway is no way to live; even if that means allowing the call of fate to lead to your eventual rest. A fated end; something many often call an unescapable fate. Something I absolutely despise hearing.
   
If only I had a stronger grip at the strands, a better look at what could have been, more will. Perhaps we would have had one more dance, huh?

   

   
Goodnight, sweet prince.

Until the next time your wingbeats grace our winds.