There was a woman who danced herself to death and no one knew why. A crowd gathered to witness her collapse. They stared at her lifeless body until a man dressed in black took it upon himself to bury her. People stood at her grave site confused by the void in their lives left by her absence. In stony silence they came, compelled by gravity. Tossing flowers. Casting judgment. Offering little more than unenlightened commentary on her demise. Untimely. Senseless. A shame. Then a random comment caused frowns: Maybe she was happy?
Excerpt from Light-Years in the Dark: StoryPoems (see more)