Dancers.

There is a dancer inside of me 

who prances around freely and magnificently,

who is assisted by the air as she soars to graze heaven's boundaries,

and who is lovingly pulled into a warm hug by the ground that catches her.

 A clear white feather in a pile of hard lifeless rocks.

There is another dancer inside of me

who harnesses the turbulent strength of the elements 

to create volatile earthquakes she uses to tear and thrash those who wish to conquer her,

who grows and conquers the more she is fed,

and who ceaselessly manipulates and schemes.

 A torrent flame in the suffocating darkness.

But yet, there is another dancer within me

who stumbles and falls,

who trips and bruises easily,

and who takes time to repair from the broken attempts to even jump,

 The ugly duckling in pond of beautiful swans.

There's one last dancer

whose reckoning voice send messages to my brain

to love and nurture all of the dancers within me

This one last dancer who is the ringleader of them all,

embraces the other dancers for what they are,

accepts them for what they are,

and loves them for what they are.

A human being that is me.