The beautiful Charles, the magnificent Charles.
You once moved like music
had your name written in it.
Every step was prayer,
every spin was a story
the air remembered.
The stage was yours,
and we borrowed light
from the way you carried it.
Life changed the rhythm, not the dancer.
The world got loud,
and somewhere the beat got lost.
Now the streets hold your footprints
where the floorboards used to.
Madness did not erase the grace
— it just hid it under harder days.
We still see the art
in how you tilt your head,
how your hands still conduct silence.
You taught us that beauty
doesn’t need a spotlight to be real.
So today we honor you: the dancer,
the dream, the human.
May you be seen, may you be safe,
may you be remembered with love.
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