Keeps us in our senses,
caries us far and wide,
drives us into a world of fantasy,
fading into melancholy.
The mind is fleeter than the wind,
picks up a spider over a word,
twisted itself continues to dance,
even if the music were to pause.
But if we had to go with a heart alone,
it wouldn’t be hard,
but harder than the thought,
for even if the music never stopped,
it’s useless to take position,
forgotten is the dance.