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Dancing is redundant.
The music dances in my head.
I wonder if I will hear and know things
after I am dead?
I sit so shyly
while the wedding people dance.
They move! They move!
But my head is a wider expanse.
The immortality of the soul
perches with folded wing
on branch after branch after branch
and doesn’t sing.
I can’t explain why doing nothing
thrills my soul.
I am happy! I am happy!
Though mourning bells toll.
