Grace exuded from the delicate steps of her dance, 

Music played around her fingers in a dreamy trance, 

They gaped at the play, woven by the threads of sheer passion, 

For this was what they miserably lacked, a shade of compassion, 

She stirred the intangible chords within the dead souls, 

Yet, the livings couldn't reckon the mere zeal of her roles, 

There were keys, hidden in every swing of her frisk,

But seen only, by the ones who had the nerve of risk, 

Under the moonlight, the ordinary ball turned into a marvelous sight, 

As she boldly messed with the realities and set the world on ignite, 

That moment contained the secrets of the future and past, 

But for her, this was a mere act of present, entangled in everlast.