they have not the strength to stand , let alone to dance . A winding tear drips down ancient craggy skin that remembers youth and ease and movement and oh , they would not give the life they ’ ve led for anything but they so miss movement for all that it is quiet and soft here . They close their eyes again , lashes fine white to match the cathedral clouds upon their head and they remember what it felt like to breathe as the universe . Oceans and skies and stars and galaxies and there is no body because the body is ailing and there is never any breath because the breath catches and it is hard , but they remember dreaming and dancing and falling and sinking and flying and diving and laughter without sound , and it is enough , what with the life behind them .
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