Dance Until You Die

Dancing - Something that needs no reasons, no excuses, no fundas, no nothing. It is that feeling when all you want to do is set yourself loose, amidst all the strings attached. It lays down a walk to remember, a stage to express, a moment to cling, a capture to frame, a life to hold on. It is then when you are free to skip what you OUGHT to do, and rather continue with what you WANT to do. How hard can that be eh? But I do hear folks say, 'Dance? Heck noo! I don't dance.' No problem. It's not that you would die if you don't dance, but you won't live either. For dancing is equal to breathing. Breathing in that gush of air, stuck behind your rusted window. The air that helps you float above all the mediocrities of your sick life and allows you to fly to your heart. And so, obviously, I like dancing. Did I say like? I love dancing. Not that I am always tapping my feet, but when I do, it's like an another world to me. The one with no qualms whatsoever. And I would live it like a second birth. Yes, I would pant, pant hard. But the dance would continue with me. Because my dance would make up for oxygen. And not just that, it would make up for every trite worry criss-crossing my head. Such is the impact. Now, who wouldn't fall for that?
Get done with dealing, and start living your life. Dance until you pour out sweat, you will still go on feeling fresh. Dance until your head fails to command, you will still feel the urge to move. Dance until your heart stops singing, you will still hear the beats. Dance until you die, and you will have lived it. Easy to say, you think? Easier to dance, I tell you.