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August 28, 2009
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Dedicated to my Lord of the Dance,
to the man who inspired this poem,
and to all who seek stardom over servanthood.
May you learn that to possess joy,
one must dance for another's glory.


~ Lord of the Dance? ~

His costume glitters with sequins and jewels
His dancing shoes glisten and shine
The music begins as his dancers dance in,
Feet tapping in rhythmic line

He waits for his cue in the shadows and smiles
He’s hearing the roar of the crowd
The sound of cheers is sweet in his ears
They call to him, clear and loud

(But what is he left with,
When the applause dies away and the cheering ceases?
What is he left with?)


The spotlight dazzles his eyes as he enters
The audience screams out his name
And then with a leap and a blurring of feet
He dances as wild as a flame

He’s the star of his show, this spectacle grand
The stage is his world without end
A vast expanse on which to dance
Where Magic and Realism blend

(But what is he left with,
When the dance is no more and the stage is bare?
What is he left with?)


The grand finale now draws to a close
A standing ovation at last!
They shout for more, “Encore! Encore!”
So he grants to them one final dance

Then he flashes a smile and blows them a kiss
He lifts his arms high, he bows
Drunk on fame and the praise of his name
He basks in what fortune allows

(But what is he left with,
When the thrill passes and the glory fades?
What is he left with?)


He flirts with the ladies, poses for cameras
And waves at the crowds of his fans
Autographs here and contracts there
And for the next program, he plans

But the spark in his eyes is empty and false
And his soul remains unsatisfied
He can't fill his desire or kindle true fire
Despite every wonder he’s tried.

(For what is he left with,
When everyone leaves and loneliness surrounds him?
What is he left with?)


He refuses to admit it...but in his heart of hearts, he knows.
There is an aching emptiness which he cannot fill.

For he would rather be the lord of the dance
Than to serve the Lord of the Dance.
As some of you may or may not have guessed, this poem was inspired by the riverdance legend, Michael Flately. I recently saw some of his big spectacular shows (on YouTube, hehe), and well...he's insanely talented and I LOVE some of what he's done, but I wasn't impressed by what I saw of his attitude. (And from what I've heard, his ego's the size of Jupiter). I saw no joy in his dancing; only pride and emptiness. Whether that is how he really is or not, I don't know. Forgive me if I'm sounding preachy or judgmental. I'm not trying to attack him personally or anything; I'm just sharing what my impressions were on his attitude, hence the poem. And this could apply to anyone, not just him.

I hope you all enjoyed this, and may the Lord of the Dance bless the life that He's choreographed for you. :)
:iconbroadsword21:
Broadsword21 Featured By Owner Aug 28, 2009  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
I've loved this poem since the first time I saw it. I had just seen one of his shows around that time, and you're entirely correct. The arrogance was astounding, almost more so than the dancing, which admittedly was cool. In the end though, I think he ruined it with his attitude. Kudos for framing these thoughts so poetically.
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