Wandering amidst the trees
She gazes still so aimlessly
Thought uncluttered, naked, free
She tiptoes, hiding, dancing.

Open to the mystery
Of deep black waters grounded
Her world she roams always alone
Far away from others.

Her depth dances restlessly
Of dark and light pure measures
The tension plays and in their dance
Strength - momentary - winds.

To keep her lonely course alive
Her life each breath depletes
With every step, a little more
Death to the ballerina.

(found in journal from 1978)