Performing Ecstasy

Flashes of quilted Christmas gyrate like dradels.
Sufi skirts aswirl
in rhythmic ripples with the undulating chant.
They dance
with growing momentum:
desperate to be lost in the bizarre oneness of love,
concentric circles and melodic tones their gate.

They dance with a symmetry and precision
That betrays their practice…
their symphony of tilting drums and swaying musicians
perfectly timed.
All, while we are watching -
Because we are watching.

A sea of spectators crowd in with cameras,
Feeding the drama with liberally bestowed applause,
electrified in our seats.
Yet underneath the charisma lies a paradox:
If you twirl for God alone, why the audience?
Though we freely play our part, what expectations draw us here?
One could puzzle over the mystic contradictions
or simply smile at the beautiful spectacle of performing ecstasy.