Save the Last Dance

Let not the needless noises from folks sound nice; Let the virtuous voice of your vision be your spice. Until you know how to shun the shield of shadow, You may not see the reality of the rarest rainbow. The county of critiques is a creative place to visit But the seat of the scornful is a pleasant pit. Flattery is the fools’ art of flaunting fairest flame; No amount of praises can lend long legs to the lame. Two eyes to behold life’s sweetest and sour sight; Two ears to hear deary duels and duets of delight. We are exposed to the echoes of edification and error In a terrain with trail of tenderness and terror. Books are but a blend of bought and borrowed beliefs And reading them may rouse resentment or relief. The aura of human attitude: apathy or allure Should not be the paint of your passionate picture. Listen to the loud lyrics of lies, love, laws and life; Hear the songs of soothing sensation and strife. Yet you cannot blame anyone for your burnt or bloom, Save the last dance, decide your own glory…or gloom!