The spinning of feet upon the floor. The journeying of man through the whirlwind. His feet and hands entwined in the air, creating room for changing twists. Sending himself through the motions, bringing his body down into a shape, he moves and contorts like a snake, writhing like seeking its next feed.
The music plays out like any regular ritual, always proud and present in its execution. He sees the ability to bring life to his creation, making him causeworthy and able to step forth in the crowd.It fills him with joy, hardship and somewhat sorrow as he recognises the path and makes it become something substantial. The time and ability to reocognise his purpose, it reaches out and bellows his name.
The major call of purpose and identifying that particular move. Defining it and seizing the moment. There is no wrong in its presence or captivation. It is always there, ascertainable through perseverance and hindsight. Working towards a greater goal, its realisation something that can be chewed upon.
Develop up a dancing style. Come and show it all the while. Stand by the sidelines and feel somewhat woozy. Let those who are able put forward their best moves, bringing it down and representing for the night.