This iceberg shifts its weight in a low bow I cannot understand. I seek to comfort, but fail. So heavy. So ever full. Something bursts on the surface and something within. I sit and listen. Yesterday – I sit and listen. Tomorrow – I sit and listen. In this eternity the iceberg releases itself deeper and slides beneath my bare feet. Where skin touches ice, I dream of our sublime meeting. It is hard to bear in true presence and with eyes open. I need to feel you. Run with you. Breath along your side. I hesitate. Today – I only sit and listen.

On your periphery the sky mirrors its silent presence, and the clouds draw in the scene. You dance in me and echo the vibrance of human suffering. The lump in my throat imitates the mass of tears that forged you with time and time again. Still, I cannot understand. Why? Why this suffering, iceberg? Why this lame and shallow tango? Feet dragging in limb pose, no color draped, turning and twisting man or woman, no attendee in sync with waltz or jive. I hear the music! I hear the music, screams my heart, but only a skip and spin in memory’s embrace, where you melt and return all tears to the ocean, and the humans to their beds, where they may rest and dream.

The „why“ grows faint as the clouds disperse your image into the universe. I pain, you pain – pain. And tears well and ice melts and humans have sat and listened, and suffered, and always will. I miss the dance as the music beckons me to lift my legs and shuffle my feet, shake off the blinding dust of suffering and lunge into the tune, to slip my own tears out of my body and into the sea, and slip out of my heavy garment I cannot shoulder, cannot understand. A little disco, jazz and mambo – they too have a place and name like suffering, but I, I need just dance.