all my efforts in vain.
Last year at this time, I dance Zaar for this song below. My white dress barely there, clasped tight by a corset around my waist. With tribal marking across my face, I dance the song of warriors defeat. Of Lover's abide and screeching in last resort for their Maker to appear.
My movements were raw, my nipples erect through the delicate white fabric. My body trembled as I lift my body off the ground, and neck back to meet the grace of the full moon illuminating a very near darkened room.
I danced for the pain that lived inside of me. The longing of unrequited love. What I was seeking was my Maker, but thought of stranger kept exploiting my head. This strange man that I had met only days ago, now locked himself in his hole, instead of here amidst the crowd watching this dance.
I wonder had he witnessed the intensity of the dance, the raw emotion that drew each woman in and repelled all men away...
Would it have save us both so much misery down the line.
How many events can take place in just one year. In just 365 nights, I have died again like I did when I first listened to this song.