Born to Dance.

I am struggling in the search for inspiration. I am struggling to find words which come extremely close to describing the feeling. Perhaps there are none. Perhaps not everything can be written down. And perhaps those are the very things that I dance out. Those are the things that can only be danced out. Only be felt in the beat of the music and the beat of my heart. Still struggling. Still wondering. Still watching. Is that a tear I find tentatively forming? I feel. I feel. I feel. I feel. I feel. I dance. I move. I feel. And in the midst of the sweet madness, everything disappears. There is no one watching. And no one to be watched.