A poem about a dancer in a quiet studio - she moves like magic, like a meteor shower, and like rain - going beyond the confines of those four walls, transcending this world and ascending into the stars. You hold your breath - as if the sound of a mere exhalation would somehow desecrate the spell of this moment. There she is in front of you, but at the same time, a hundred miles away. And you accept it. And you let go. - "She is far, far away from me. She walks in starlight in another world. It was just a dream."