La dernière pirouette
Trooping Faerie, Op. 710a, TH 22: IIb
Ceres Eithne

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On some days, the dan​seuse in me tries to perceive the lowing herd winds and tough, lush reedy on the bottom of her feet. And then commenced with a plié and sprang up into pirouette in the broken pointe shoes. She gyrated ceaselessly to weed out the growing trepidation and outmaneuver the spiritless self, despite the gnawing pain.

Many of these times she staggered to her feet believing she could not execute a series of tombé pas de bourrée, chaîné turns, and assemblé. Leading to the sorest need to take the last pirouette.

Today, she finds herself promptly closing the water faucet which made a high-pitched squeal. This dan​seuse feasted her orbs on the swirling of the water as it gets sipped delightedly by whatever lurks underneath. An unbridled melancholy or unwanted thoughts of some sort.

But, having to be able to pull other's heartstrings with each symphony embedded in the oeuvres was beyond her sunken daydreams. Perhaps, it was a razor-sharp reminder that it only takes an ounce of courage to believe in her transformative power.

And so did she with such mellifluous resonance.

This is her soliloquy.