The Souls Are Dancing

In the hush of twilight,  
where shadows weave  
a tapestry of lingering light,  
souls are dancing—  
barefoot on the whispering grass,   
unfurling like petals in bloom.  

Each heartbeat a drumbeat,  
echoes of laughter mingling with sighs;   
they spiral upward, shimmering—  
stardust caught in time's gentle embrace.   

We remember them not as memories lost,   
but as flickers of joy suspended in air,  
the warmth of their presence lingers still,   
like a song that rides the evening breeze.   

They twirl and sway beneath the silvered sky—a festival;  
in every movement lies a story:    
a love letter to life etched in soft glances;    
forgotten regrets dissolving into ethereal mist.

Oh! How they dance—freedom wrapped around them;    
no weight but that which is held close—a soft melody.    
With arms wide open to celestial whispers,      
they trace constellations in an unending waltz.    

In unity and solitude entwined:        
each soul finds its rhythm within this cosmic band;          
together yet apart—the beauty unfolds     
in their silent choreography beneath watchful stars.

And we who remain—with hearts anchored deep—     
watch from afar as they spin through night’s embrace:      
knowing all too well that though veils may divide us     
love knows no bounds—it bends even grief into grace.

So let us hold tight to our own fragile dances—      
the steps we take echo theirs beyond understanding;      
for souls are dancing eternally among woven dreams, weaved forever       
into the fabric of memory where truth lives softly undisturbed.