Art; the extension of Faith

Dance. Like ripples of water through the emotions of the human body. Like expressing the universe with the flickering of a wrist, with the tilt of a shoulder. The language of the body perfected into the language of music, and ultimately, to the beat of a universal heart, the heart of the world.

This is the one thing I cannot express in words. No matter how poetic I try to be, or how accurate, or however well it can have you understand what I mean, this is the one thing I cannot, never, reproduce. Quite litterally. For with my leg I will never dance. And is it the forbidden fruit that sweeps my mind away, or the passion, the immersion, the ability to close your eyes and let your body drift on the ocean of existance or be tossed between the waves of chaos, that makes my eyes tear at the thought alone?

Dance. An embodiment of the concept I call beauty. An expression, an art, but most of all a path to the insides of your soul and the discovery that it is no more separate from the universe than a molecule of air is from the air itself. The world does not matter. Not the one you see or feel through your eyes or your ears or your skin. What matters is the flow, the beat. The beating of the heart of what some would call God, but that I have no word for.

There are no words.