“And a man troubled by loss and furrowed in brow examined the exhilaration of the dancers uninhibiting all around Jackson Square and wondered why are they free and what about me? And the wind found the rut crumpling his brow and it soothed the swelter of his concentration as the pretty blond in moccasins’ howl raised its pitch and also his pulse and he saw all at once the broken hearts and the wary eyes, the lonely nights and the shattered dreams, the sufferings of solitude that seethe within the soul of all. And his sweaty hands freed themselves from his slumping pockets as his aching feet began to move and he was clumsy and he was awkward but he was smiling just the same and no longer was there loss as herky-jerky he danced, high-stepping his feet as his arms flailed the fool but no one was judging and least of all he for he became we and we are so free for we are Spirit embodied and our bodies are but leotards for the soul and we are here to caress this Earth with the dance of our lives and there is nothing we can build that will not collapse but we can love without limit and dance without denial ‘cause this is our life and this is our death and we don’t know why and we don’t know where but this is our dream and if this dream is to be then we must be free to abandon the past and give up control and dance, and dance, and dance the wild divine.”