There is a call
from the rhythm devine
That ripples and I follow
Not as a wagabond though
Its just those beats
Which creeps within
& merges with my heatbeat
Those illusions and expressions
Oh what a visual treat!
I twist and turn with sprouting zeal
All my agony at once does it heal
Those painted dancing red feet
So admiring and perfectly neat
The speaking “ghungrus” that I tie
Over my ankles with heavenly delight
That follows the beats,hands and eye
Where sound being the endless story
And dance being my fame and glory