Radioactive

Written to this.

The air is that soft perfect temperature that just glides over my skin without actually touching me. My arms and legs swirl through it, kicking up ashes and dust with my pirouettes and twirls. My bare feet pad along the barren ground. The tiny motes kiss my face and cling to my hair as my body sways and arches to the song only I can hear. Dip, bend, spin, step, leap. My laugh peals hollowly across the empty space. There is no laugh in return because there is nothing for the sound to bounce off of. There is nothing here but emptiness and myself.

So I dance.

I dance to fill the silent lonely emptiness. My smile is fixed to my face in remembrance of old times. The violin plays just for me in my mind. The drum of my heart gives me a beat to step to. The bright sun scorches my naked flesh as I cross the land beneath it. The heavens are clear now that the dust has settled, now that everything is quiet. The rolling thunder has faded and only the crystal clear blue expanse of heaven that stretches out to meet the curving horizon in all directions is left. I complete the circle, watching the faint curve of the earth meet itself in a perfectly flat disc around me. The dust and ash of a past world stick to the trails of wetness down my cheeks. The world looks brighter through the lens of tears in my eyes. I dance and laugh and cry silently for the world that has passed and gone by, destroyed by its people.