A Dance of Ashes and Cinders

The crowd had gathered to celebrate in feast. They drew up close around a roaring and crackling fire. From its vortex burned vivid reds which singed themselves into the night atmosphere in a euphonic hum of cinders. Guiding the mood, stroke by stroke, the village bards beseeched their souls for diversion of emotion into the medium of instrument, propelling the minds of the society at hand into their influence. They strummed vivaciously and ecstatically, propelling the town into an active ease. The aroma of food lazily drifted across the banquet, arousing the excited and joyful villagers into unbridled mirth. They gathered round closer to the fire in a hoard, readying themselves to dance.

Each raised a single hand towards the fire with their elbows bent at right angles-

A twirl and then a sidestep away-

A spin clockwise,

Counterclockwise,

And then three steps around the fire,

Shifting the now concentric circles of structured dancers in unison.

In their ensemble, they all leapt away from the fire, and then dove forward towards it,

Spinning nimbly as their feet landed in its gentle and yet coursing warmth.

As their movements grew more swift, guided constantly by tradition, osmotic knowledge, and the musings of a catalytically born society, the bards took full control of the pace, guiding the village as a whole in a hypnotic trance.

All Stepping in-

Out and forward-

Bounding hands raised-

Floating undauntedly into fire-

Darting away gracefully in glee-

Spinning,

Stepping,

Spiralling in smiles-

Spinning,

Coursing,

And Bounding-

Leaping and Shifting,

Stepping forward,

Backwards,

And finally aside.

The village followed the song, drumbeat by drumbeat, entranced by its undulating sequence of waves and lulls. In their minds sat not a single doubt of their chosen footing, nor of the set of events that brought it into being. They remained stoically joyful, bounding eternally and enchantingly-

Forwards,

Backwards-

And now spiralling,

Finally bounding aside.

The bodies sat around the distant table, listening in on the sounds of a lulling and omnipresent tune. In complement to its thrumming, a chorus of subjugated villagers hummed in joint satisfaction, their steps drumming up animation in an air-bound melody-

A song of simple devising, echoed from inconstant and uninspiring musings until it was propelled into the traditional canon.

A song that could give definition to their shadows and maintain their society in its throes of Death- or was it Birth?

Or Both?

A song to which all could dance and sing to, especially once reinforced by commonality.

A song of unity, and yet a song of division-

One that would ensure divisions remained in just the right balance that their desired unsteady and yet eternal unity could be assured.

Birth and vitality; patriotism and identity; culture and literature; musings and thought; language and home- all of it pointed without fail to the tune and called out to the villagers. To this they responded as they knew how- with humanity, manifested in emotion and improvisation. To this they responded in joint joy and blended mirth-

Spiralling,

Spinning,

Bounding forwards,

Backwards,

And undauntedly into the volatile fire.

They fearlessly saw its grip and danced within it,

Ever aware of their limited action,

And yet liberated by understanding of their limitations.

Uncontrollable,

Untouchable,

Bounding and bounding,

Undauntedly,

Undoubtedly,

And Eternally

Into the fire.