Let Us Dance
There's a little voice,
a little self inside you,
and she loves, he hopes,
they are filled with wonder,
we are itching for more
because we know, we sense,
we feel how abundant
the world is, and we are.
There are tiny buds
and voluminous blossoms
sprinkling the planet,
and this is delightful
as they come and go,
as in the fresh spring wind,
they dance.
There are small hills
and the grandest mountains,
elegant and momentous,
still as a Buddha,
and slowly, with the long view,
they dance.
The rivers in flow,
the oceans capturing
all our momentum
as they crash and retreat,
carry, reflect, lie still,
and dance
under the sun, then moon,
which are always
dancing with each other
to give us our moments
of bright and shifting light.
We are called, we are pulled,
we are beckoned to dance.
We want to dance,
we are inspired to breathe
with the world,
in constant motion;
nothing stays, rests for long.
May we rest when we can,
and then,
let us dance.
Tammy Stone Takahashi is a writer, poet, photographer and student of life. Her short stories and poems have been widely published and anthologized and she has worked on several anthologies as co-editor. Her published works include a book of photography, "Tag it! Toronto: A City's Imagination Revolution" (2009), and the poetry collections Formation: Along the Ganges and Back Again (2015), Little Poems for Big Seasons (2016) and Land, 2018. She is based in Canada and Japan, and can be found curled up with a good good, talking to trees or hand-sewing in her spare time. She invites you to see some of her recent photography here and to connect with her on her writer's page, twitter and her blog, There’s No War in World, here.
There's a little voice,
a little self inside you,
and she loves, he hopes,
they are filled with wonder,
we are itching for more
because we know, we sense,
we feel how abundant
the world is, and we are.
There are tiny buds
and voluminous blossoms
sprinkling the planet,
and this is delightful
as they come and go,
as in the fresh spring wind,
they dance.
There are small hills
and the grandest mountains,
elegant and momentous,
still as a Buddha,
and slowly, with the long view,
they dance.
The rivers in flow,
the oceans capturing
all our momentum
as they crash and retreat,
carry, reflect, lie still,
and dance
under the sun, then moon,
which are always
dancing with each other
to give us our moments
of bright and shifting light.
We are called, we are pulled,
we are beckoned to dance.
We want to dance,
we are inspired to breathe
with the world,
in constant motion;
nothing stays, rests for long.
May we rest when we can,
and then,
let us dance.
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