The Dance



I know of a place; strange, and enchanting. This is where the wood nymphs dance. This is where the wood elves sing. A glade, a perfect circle; the nymphs and elves join hands and dance as the sun goes down. This place was meant and made for creatures not of our world. Creatures of water and light; not those of substance.

Nymphs are allowed here. Faeries gather, pure and shining. The sprites of the water move through the glade, with a whisper and a flash of blue. Even the stars occasionally fly down to join hands with their far cousins.

The stars! Ahh when the stars come… there is nothing like it. The stars are shining palest blue, effulgent gold, shimmering silver, iridescent yellow. The stars mock, and bless everything and everyone. They are of the universe and yet they are only themselves.

Only in the glade will they join the dance for a time. And then they are gone in moment. They are the epiphany of the dance, the highlight, the epoch… Once they are gone the dance, for a time, loses some of its… flavor. But it always recovers. Always.

The dance is filled with the beings of light. This is a place where no human should dare to tread.

But… two children wander over. They are children of a special quality; they can see some of the dance. They see light twisting and swirling. They move closer, closer… then… In an instant they step into the ring. They realize what they have done. What they can’t undo. They are in the dance for all eternity. They will forever be dancing with the creatures who have no substance, they who are only light. They laugh, they are glad to dance. They are dancing forever. They are dancing now.