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  • She flies- arms free, eyes bright, mind in another world
    He reads his poem- voice fluctuating, hands sweeping the air as if moved by the higher power that is his unconscious
    She whirls- she is quiet during the day, but is free- free to move, free from the sanctions of society- now
    He recites- the words are the first drops of rain- hot, heavy- born of a storm that has been waiting to boil over since the day everything began

    They dance with their creations. A daring, floor-sweeping dance, a rising tango, a sweet, rocking melody- hers is uncontrollable, bursting; his slow but growing in intensity, hunger, as the words that needed to be said spill out, embarrassed that it has taken this long.
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