there is madness in the music.
the madness of rebellious composers, & of poets.
of lovers, & of those who suffer for believing
there is a place beyond obscurity.

L'Adoration de la Terre:

there is rage in the choreography.
the dancers profess their pagan adoration
of Spring, mistress of renewal.
they dance a sexual frenzy, in thrall to Gaia.
their dementia deviates into terpsichore,
as their king kneels & kisses the earth.

Le Sacrifice:

the ballerinas arrive from the river.
they are lithe & lovely, as ballerinas are,
clothed in peasant tunics, torn & form-fitting.
& the fairest of these becomes the 'chosen.'

but the primitive dance steps, lacking the grace & fluidity
of traditional ballet, are met with disdain by the audience.
(who are we to judge?
we are human parodies in a penny opera.)

in the final movement, the girl dances
because the gods demand it.
her maneuvers are contorted, & energetic,
almost ugly, & exquisitely beautiful.

until the intensity of it ravages her,
& she lay upon the stage...& does not move.

it is the music
& the dancing
& the beauty

that killed her.

(the way of all art)