Too True Tango

     I am a lover of dance. I find that I enjoy watching (and/or dancing) almost every known dance there is. But recently I discovered the Argentine Tango.
     Now I know that many people make Tango out to be a romantic dance or a sexy dance, but the truth is far from it. The Tango is entirely a dance of communication. That's why the phrase "two to Tango."
     What is Tango? A dance of partnership. When a man asks a woman to dance the Tango with him, he is asking her, in silent contract, to follow his movements and obey his steps. And she, when offering her hand to be led into the dance is agreeing by her actions to follow him blindly. (Sometimes quite literally: I find I am the better dancer when I close my eyes. I also enjoy it more.)
     It is the man's dance. It is his job to decide where they go along the floor and what steps to take and, by his movement and strength of hold, to communicate this to his partner so she can follow in a split second so they stay in time to the music.
     It is the woman's dance. She is the crown jewel. In heels and graceful, gliding steps she commands the room. If she cannot follow him, she must stay still so no one watching knows the mistake.
     It is a dance of the senses. The partners hands meet on one side and embrace on the other. Humans are tactile creatures. Even something as simple as a dance hold can change your perspective. Your ears hear the music, you feel your own heartbeat. A simple pleasure to close my eyes as I am led around the dance floor. Beautiful.
     Now I know quite a few men out there who either don't like dancing or don't know how to dance and are embarrassed to try. If you can walk, you can be taught how to dance. Many women out there appreciate men to can dance or have the guts to at least try. Ballroom dancing was once a social norm. Now not so much. A shame. Men who dance have a tendency to be more chivalrous than others because they are taught to respect women. I hope, dear reader, that this new generation will try to Tango. It's not complicated, it just takes some steps.
     And the first step is to not be afraid of dancing in the first place. 

Tomorrow

Why do tomorrow what you can do today?
They all say the same.
Chase it all, get it done.
Follow your dreams,
do not procrastinate.
Why put off what can be done now?
I asked the same.
Some days I still ask it.
But then the sun sets.
Another day lost.
And I still haven't met my goals or found my dream.
Where has the time gone?
Where is my life?
Portions tucked away in memories.
Parties and chores,
faces of friends,
hugs from the family,
pain and laughter,
long dreadful days,
quick fleeting feelings,
that crush she had,
that arm he broke.
Memories only now.
Time that once was now is not.
Today become yesterday and the past.
Was it all a waste of time?
I feel old.
So many memories and not enough done.
I spend so much time
eating, sleeping, staring off into space.
Traveling from one job to the next
while my mind is already there.
People remind me that I'm still young.
That I have all the time in the world
ahead of me to find my dream
and fall in love too.
And I smile with them and agree.
But inside I know it all must end.
I do not have Forever on Earth.
Even Earth will die someday.
Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe I will die tomorrow.
Maybe I will go home.
Perhaps the sun will rise,
to set one last time in glory.
Or perhaps it will be just another day.
Like yesterday.
Like today.
Will tomorrow be the same?
Will I get another chance to reach for my ideal?
Do I have a lifetime still ahead of me?
Do I have all the time in my world?
But I feel as if I've spent a lifetime already.
Where shall I be tomorrow?
Same as today?
Then isn't tomorrow today already?
How the days of my life have blurred together.
Life has become monotonous.
I have become a thrill-seeker.
Spending what little time I get away from work
watching action and romance films,
reading thrillers and fantasies.
I am a recluse but still hunger for the social.
The grind of the workplace
the demand of others
pull at the feathers of the bird.
I feel caged, clipped.
Shall I ever fly?
I am the butterfly awakening from its cocoon.
Is there nowhere I can rest
before I seek my flower?
Where shall I run but back to my God?
Where can I turn but to my Savior?
I am a footprint on the seashore.
I shall be washed away at the tide.
Where is my tomorrow but in the hands of my God?
Am I a fly that tomorrow will be one day too late?

The Lonely Wanderer

Following the stars,
his dreams reach ever higher,
roving, wandering,
dreading the settle.
Some secret past -
stuff of legend or forgotten life?
Ghosts of old enemies,
faces of lost loves,
the dark of the night
and memory of the day
haunt his every move.
He embraces the party,
takes challenge and adventure,
trouble is his shadow,
danger seems his middle name.
Intellectual yet restless
charming yet solitary.
Inside he burns.
What are you trying to forget
poor wandering soul?
He is never lost,
knows how to get out of every pinch.
A mystery to the ladies,
he still manages to fall in love time and again.
But time is not kind.
It steals all he holds dear.
So he moves on,
searching for one more star.
One more moment in time.
One more new memory to be made.
Some of us pity him.
Some of us admire him.
How could he be so different?
Is that the magic?
Is that the wonder?
Who is he?
This lonely wanderer?
In the end
he is me,
he is you.
Every life lost at heart.
Searching for the voice that calls us Home.
He is every wandering soul.
He is every friendless child,
single mother
crying father
prodigal son
heartbroken daughter.
What shall be said to them?
Oh Humanity.
What does your Lover?
The ancient song goes on.
     Come ye sinner
     I take you as you are.
     I'll forgive you
     and be your home.
     Come lonely wanderer.
Come.