My first sandbox was long ago. My colors were Green. It was there that I first learned the Dance.
I dance the sky.
My first role in the Dance was to bring my brothers with me. We partnered with Death, and my role was also to bring my brothers out when She danced too closely.
Poets have said that Her Kiss is cold, but in the Dance, the Kiss is full-metal-jacket hot. It is fiery and burns. I felt the heat brush my cheek more than once, but She was insufficiently enamored of me to Kiss me. I was not saddened that she found me unattractive.
Sometimes I entered the Dance alone. At night.
During the day, I learned to be agile. My only armor was air, and air is thin armor indeed…the Kiss brushed my lips often, then…
Later, the song of the Dance changed, and Death tested Her reach. I danced in other sandboxes, and, at times, my brothers who wore the Blue joined the Dance.
My role changed again. This time, when Death danced to closely, or tried to Kiss, I would cut in and distract Her by finding others for Her to Kiss.
My role changed yet again. I taught the new dancers. I made the lessons hard, so the Dance would be easy. My students learned well. They have not yet been Kissed.
My time in the Dance grows short. One day, soon, She will Kiss me.
I will not seek out the burning, but I will not flinch from it when it comes.
She will come soon, but will not come this day.
This day, I will dance only for friends.
Okay, Ladies, a little bit o' poetry, some guns 'n' guys 'n' helicopter pr0n, a lotta dancin' and hot, burnin' kisses'—I think I covered all the chick stuff that you—oooops! I almost forgot. I promised you a full-frontal flight suit shot…
(...Thanks for writing this BillT...it's wonderful!)
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