The wild, frantic dance,
The legends say often
Was performed on the solstice
To placate the gods,
Could never succeed
In easing man's burden.
(After night passed, without fail,)
Humanity's stench,
The morning would launch
Upon the sea of day.
Though the steps are lost, they dance still,
Who know that the fates hold,
For each of our lives,
A thread that winds, and stretches, and breaks.