The Whirler

By: Teramir Posted on: January 30, 2007

Note: Written while admiring the Garden of the Arts in my home city of Cyrene. I am always struck by the statue of Terpsichore, the Whirler -- how carved stone can capture such a strong sense of constant motion.

The Whirler

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Held still in one moment, forever in motion,
Her grey marble eyes are alive and alight.
The joy of the dance her only devotion,
She whirls here forever in giddy delight

Her grey marble eyes are alive and alight
Though they be made of cold stone without feeling
She whirls here forever in giddy delight
And watching her sets my mind dizzily reeling

Though they be made of cold stone without feeling
Her skirts swirl and flare as she gracefully spins,
And watching her sets my mind dizzily reeling,
As with her dance my feet itch to join in.

Her skirts swirl and flare as she gracefully spins
In one perfect instant of motion she's caught.
As with her dance my feet itch to join in,
I ponder Terpsichore's curious lot.

In one perfect instant of motion she's caught,
The joy of the dance her only devotion;
I ponder Terpsichore's curious lot:
Held still in one moment, forever in motion.