Again and again, I ask, What is this dance? Who dances?
Who plays, and why? And what is that song?
What was before the song, and what will be after?
Can there be no song, no sound?
What is that, and what would I be there?
How can I even begin to answer? I cannot.
I can only dance, sing, play, listen,
I listen - but I just cannot hear,
I dance - but I cannot move with the dance,
Or let the dance move me.
Flesh and blood, and with a heart that beats,
Yet not truly alive: I cannot let the song flow through me.
But if, if I can just feel,
If I can allow an inner opening to the sound,
If I can allow it to be ever nearer and nearer,
Then I can know just one thing, and it will be enough:
It is You. You are the Lord of the Dance,
And I long to dance in adoration at your feet.
You are my rhythm, you are my melody,
You are the drummer and the drum, the singer and the song,
You are the point, you are the whole, you are one and you are all.
I am enthralled; and, inside the sound, all is Om.