Nine troupes bound upon the stage
A flurry of colours
Face paintings of the passions
Music bursting with emotions
Writhing upon the floor

Three troupes somersault around the stage
Weaving a pattern of colours
A flurry of tails
Music sad and haunting
Dancing around the passions

All nine moving around the stage,
Together like a whirlpool.
Breaking apart upon something unseen
Hurled back as a solitary figure
Leaps into view,
To the centre of the writhing mass.
A shadow of seven from behind

First four figures emerge from behind
Dancing sensually
Mingling with the nine
Music sensual and erotic
Drawing the nine to mimic their dance

Three dark figures follow
Silently picking off the nine
One by one
A scream all around, a manic laughter
Dragging the inert forms to their master

A clear ring of laughter from across the stage
Enters a figure with a laughing face
Laughs at the lone figure with the bodies
Laughs at the sensual dances
And dark ones as they bare down upon him

A press of bodies and he cannot be seen
But with a cry he flies above
Tumbling in the air to land facing them
As they turn he leaps again
touching two upon their heads, they drop.

The other five claw the air as he somersaults away
He laughs with glee leaping and tumbling
Evading the hunters becoming the hunter.
Picking up a dark one hurling it
at the figure on the mound of bodies.

With a wild cry he leaps towards
the figure smiting down upon him
touching a body bringing it back to life.
dancing together
making the dark ones flee.

The master of the dark ones
joins the foray
leaping, cartwheeling,
and somersulting around each other
for ever dancing