“Oh you the creator, you the destroyer, you who sustain and make an end,Who in sunlight dance among the birds and the children at their play,Who at midnight dance among corpses in the burning grounds,You Shiva, you dark and terrible Bhairava,You Suchness and Illusion, the Void and All Things,You are the lord of life, and therefore I have brought you flowers;You are the lord of death, and therefore I have brought you my heart—This heart that is now your burning ground.Ignorance there and self shall be consumed with fire.That you may dance, Bhairava, among the ashes.That you may dance, Lord Shiva, in a place of flowers,And I dance with you.”
“You cannot dance up there," he said, quietly. "I can see you are in mourning. But you are welcome to dance here, among the magic. Please. Come and mend you broken hearts here. Come back, every night.”
“That is kind of you, my lord. But I will never dance with you.'Which, of course, made it the goal of Leo's life.”
“Now stop your dancing; you wouldn't come out and dance when I played to you.”
“...have I told you? - your eyes are a dark poem of dancing snow at midnight ...”
“Dance, my darling dance! If you dance then death can't catch you! Nothing bad can touch you! Dance!”