Clear air
Filled with
Magic from the speakers

Sway into a trance
A familiar ritual
Called groove

I thought the magic all worn out
But it never left
It is just forgotten
Like a spellbook in the antic

Music is a spell
Movement is magic

Still air
left with
Static from the speakers

Snap out of the trance
A familiar reality
Called silence

Let me share a little about myself.

I used to dance a lot. After school, we would
hang out at some open space, plug in the speakers
and start dancing freestyle. That was when none 
of us had any proper technique or style. 

Someone told me perhaps, that’s dance in its purest
form. It is beyond the shackles of expectations, the 
standardisation of movements, and the burden of 
being professional. 

I believe that dance is the best thing that happened
in my life. Even though I don’t dance anymore, it
still is one of the best. I thought the dancer in me
is gone, but it is just forgotten. Until the music gets
turned on. This poem is written for the special me
in my youth: the dancer that never left.

Image: Featuring the S**t Kingz on stage

This poem is also dedicated to the S**t Kingz, my biggest inspiration for dancing.


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