[In his era, dance is more ritual than art - but it is true that there ripples fierce beauty through the movements meant to honor the gods or bring glory to men.
So too is it true that the act of courting a woman is woven through with ritual.
Thus, Achilles follows with his footfall eager, and his eyes crackle with delight as she guides his hands to her body, then her hands to his: before they have even begun, the curves of their limbs stitch together a sort of intimacy that it not found in the dances he knows. At first the steps are foreign underneath his feet, and like a calf faltering on its spindly legs he shadows her movements. Soon, though, his nimble feet find the rhythm of the dance, just as his fingers fall upon the precise notes of the lyre to strike harmony. Once he can watch Olivia more than the path tapped by their feet, he lifts a grin to her.]
Tell me, do I a suitable partner make?
[Held aloft in dance as she is, she belongs as does the sun in the vault of the sky: in full radiance at last when above the veil of clouds it rises.]
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So too is it true that the act of courting a woman is woven through with ritual.
Thus, Achilles follows with his footfall eager, and his eyes crackle with delight as she guides his hands to her body, then her hands to his: before they have even begun, the curves of their limbs stitch together a sort of intimacy that it not found in the dances he knows. At first the steps are foreign underneath his feet, and like a calf faltering on its spindly legs he shadows her movements. Soon, though, his nimble feet find the rhythm of the dance, just as his fingers fall upon the precise notes of the lyre to strike harmony. Once he can watch Olivia more than the path tapped by their feet, he lifts a grin to her.]
Tell me, do I a suitable partner make?
[Held aloft in dance as she is, she belongs as does the sun in the vault of the sky: in full radiance at last when above the veil of clouds it rises.]