Just Let Yourself Float....

Hola compañeros!


With the English board on my head tomorrow, what more sufficient than practicing writing skills and writing articles.(=P)
And so this is the last and very last part of Kanika's Fantabulous February.(it's my first Fantabulous February, and last of course, post though)
I only happened to realize the kind of dancer Ruhani is, for I saw her dance video just a few days back. This is for you babe. I know how you feel about your dancing, for I feel the same for my guitar! :*



The lights, the cheers, the shouts, the laughs, the tears, the applause, the stage, the music, the costumes, the choreography, the jumps, the leaps, the final showdown. 
Everything a dancer could have wanted. It was the night when the time for me to bask in the success of being an exquisite danseuse. The echo of the applause still lingers around my auricles, sometimes dropping by the touch of exhilaration and contentment on my fortitude that, yes, yes there was a period when I would just sway and that, just that would pirouette away my fears, my apprehensions. But such did wheels of fate turned and isolated me with nonentity. The only wheels I hold in my hand now, are the ones which batter every truth mercilessly that I could once dance; the same wheels which now sway me around, but not in the fashion which I once did.


And she held my hand. She took my legs and moved me around, like my mother did; yes, exactly like my mother did. "Don't fret", she had said, trying to bring my feeble attempts of being on my toes once again to life. She showed me the sun, "It's indeed an inspiring star", she continued, "Just like you were." I couldn't congregate my valor. Each time that I'd retreat into my shell, she would yank me with all her might. "I'm here, and I'm not leaving", she encouraged. She always made sure of giving me the juice of potency and might every day. "It would make you strong", she explained. Step by step, trail by trail. She stood like my calipers of stalwart. "Reach it.", she would demand, steering my eyes towards the sun. And alas! Only if it wasn't her credence, her conviction, I wouldn't be on my toes again. "Leap", she had said, "Leap like you did on the stage that night." 


And here, I stand again, ready to engulf the world once again in my leap, to pirouette away my fears again. I've everything now, everything I would have had that very night only if I wasn't too bothered to escape the hug of fame and get some air only for being thrashed to the ground by the wagon. I've everything, but her. She wanted to see me leap, she wanted to see me fly again, she wanted to see me articulately whip the atmosphere around with my toes again. I looked at this picture for long. How she'd come like a breeze, meandering me around and gave me my sun. 
"You deserve to have it, and are gifted to make it yours."
Only if I realized that these would have been the last of her ingredients into my juice of potency. Only if I could see that she wanted to live her dream through me. Only if I could foresee her absence on my D-DAY, for in the hospital that day she was transacting her soul with the devil to give me the chance to walk again, to fly, to float and to leap again.


See you fellas.
Till then, tener cuidado.