I spied his arching chest, and tail

switching towards our earth

but no glinting eye or crown.

I dared to ask my prancing Lord

and he did so reply,

“This night, though blind,

I lead the round,

though headless, dance the way.

Barking and howling touch me not,

metallic fireflies flit fleetly

through my skies,

yet silently I glide,

silently glide I.

Burning, blinking city lights pay no heed

to circadian singing

cicadas’ fulsome nights,

yet silently I lead the dance,

silently lead I.

Whirling electronic wonders born of certainties

hover on the brink -

only after your weeping

will you see me dancing

straining to your pain.”