In shadowed glade, below the moonlit night,
The Black Swan unfurls, an alluring sight.
His piercing gaze reflects the stars above
Although tear-stained cheeks suggest forlorn love.
His silhouette regal, both fierce and stark.
Sinuous and poised, he stands in the dark.
His broken wings, a canvas of despair.
Yet within their frame, a hope; a prayer.
The dance begins with melody’s embrace.
Every step crafted with power and grace.
His body, like silk, rhythm soft and free.
His every move, a haunting symphony.
The cadence rises and fervour takes flight,
He leaps and spins, a blur of pure delight.
Every twist and turn conjures dreams anew.
But in memories, shadows linger too.
The harmony surges, a cry of woe
And the writhing dancer begins to slow.
A Swan Song, a moment, haunting the air.
A siren’s call, both enchanting and fair.
Time stops in sorrow, the Black Swan now spent.
Falling; broken; bloody; painful descent.
The shadows gather, the Black Swan lies still,
A ghost bathed in moonlight, wrapped by death’s chill.
Yet where there is dark, there is also light.
It is enough to hope, to stay, to fight.
His soul is restored and his spirit’s refill.
A testament to strength and steadfast will.
He kneels, rises, and with euphoric cry,
Under pale moonlight, relearns how to fly.
With wings rewoven strong, he starts to soar
From downtrodden soul to fearless once more.
Let the Black Swan dance, his passion renewed
And let all future steps be faith imbued.
His heart now beating with love’s vital light
Creating a flame that burns eternally bright.
