She was a tiny ballerina;
Of dance, of art tsarina.
She soared in a flight
Against the gravity – so light –
Elusive dance on pointers
Unreal for the gawkers.
Inconstant and impulsive,
Beyond the hyle – impassive.

He was a cragsman.
On surface common human:
Slow and sure; in armature
His principles were pure.
All life towards the pike,
In limitations and the strike.
Never weak, but only winner
In the man’s game inner.

Once, in a half a second flight,
She reached his enduring height.
In antipolar, but equal might,
Mesmerized he dropped the right.
Without the wings, without the magic,
He stepped and fell in logic
And emptiness that under
Devoured him with his wonder.

He stepped and fell, and so,
Must know – the ballerinas also tend to fall,
For public never knows, at all,
The broken legs since afterglow.