My soul is a dancer.
I've seen her.
He's made her lithe
and graceful,
fearfully beautiful.
She dances now
while I worship
or pray.
And one day
after I am old and gray,
I'll dance with her
through the streets of heaven
in the courts of my king.
But, until then I'll worship
and pray
and practice new dances
to dance with her on that day.
-Veronica Boulden
The Quarrel Between Poetry and Philosophy
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