III: Fair Exchange

I think now of my father's wasted breath
as he huddled in bright corners with his cronies
drinking, shouting words like glittering coins
and happily hating life.
At sixty-three he said
The future's mine
because for the first time in my life
I'm not afraid.

The Lord of the dance appeared
to gaze on what he made.
The Lord of the dance appeared
with a thousand arms
a thousand heads
a thousand mouths
that flickered tongues of flame
and eyes that poured forth light
too bright for our seeing.

The Lord of the dance paid cash.