Cousins of Dionysus
Dance your might
Around the centered pole
Eerie delight
The ground swallows your
Magicians and sorcerers whole.
The troubled elves gasp
They laugh inside
Back around and around
Skip those feet
Marching beat.
The pole grows wider
Your blood runs in cider.
Human drama binds/runs the casting spell
Dwelling gnomes
Double-shaking shoulders
Dusted tomes
Thick ash smolders
Grasping collective
Threads of spiraling glee
We dance with me.
She prances heartache with them.
What could have been
Pushes the masses towards the bliss within.