Bathe in the remnants of orphaned stars,
The moonlight bleeds through the crevices,
Light shatters on my porcelain skin,
I blind the tempted eyes- devour my nectar.
Eyes are stolid; lips are stained,
The face is painted bloodless,
Hair in a web of white ribbons,
Loose seams make my visage ethereal.
I let my hands slide down,
Feeling my way into character,
Eyes soften with a tinted blush,
My emotions explode into a celestial glow.
The music nuzzles against my mind,
It itches my parched skull,
The hymns branch my blood, flowers bloom,
Tongue laps over this sweet surrender.
My muse’s fire burns wild,
The petals clench with flailing limbs,
I am rooted to my natal tongue: a narrator,
End the piece in third position.
Like reading about dance? Do check out Yaksha, the first ever children’s book on the folk art form of Yakshagana.