Motivations in Movement

I was young, a giant ball of energy ready to be released.

I thought to myself, "my motivations will never decrease."

I motion clumsily with provocation, what is this new dance?

So many moves to learn, but nothing comes at an instance.

My frustrations grow as others learn faster.

Every time I fall, my words become crasser.

Still, I continue like a dumb aging bull.

Why do I feel god has been so cruel.

Before long, I enter countless competitions and lose.

Disappointment in me, I think that it's all a big ruse.

I continue to move and learn as much as I can.

It's next to impossible, taking my lifespan.

After years of practice, certain moves become simple.

I made it easy for myself, less practice more mingle.

Keep pressing on and others will quit.

When I'm the only one left, I'll be the shit.

I move more and the moves become vocabulary.

Gaining new friends along with some adversaries.

Motions start to flow the way that I like them to.

Communicating to others as my hips are winding through.

Circling the floor in an isolated room.

I lose myself with blasting tunes.

Weeks after weeks and days after days.

My arms and legs are toys that I learn how to play.

Not long my aging body makes it even harder to learn.

Great! Another reason for me to spurn.

Aching mornings from the wild movements I've made.

Coworkers make comments, feels more like shade.

Gone are my need for competition and validation.

Feeling free on the floor is my new motivation.

I've enlightened to see a new perspective.

Learning other movements like new electives.

Only a select few understand where I come from.

Mostly I talk about it with my older dance chums.

We continue to move albeit slow when we start.

While the youth laugh and snark at the old farts.

Thousands of hours practiced at our craft.

When they see us warmed up they begin to be daft.

They ask "How do you do that? I want to learn it today!"

We laugh and reply "Okay sure," not knowing they'll stay.

They're taught the move and they try it for a bit.

We know that it's temporary, they're just going to quit.

I continue to dance, honing my skills.

Like a stubborn mule, I try to drill.

Who am I kidding I never drill moves like I should.

It's the reason why my moves are still so crude.

I don't believe in drilling until I perfect a look.

I would have been a lot better if I followed the book.

My moves are at random crazy I know it seems.

They don't impress but my smile so wide it gleams.

I don't think I'll ever conform to the look of the masses.

It's only going to get harder as I'm slowing down like molasses.

My body creaking and injuries are more prevalent.

Recovery takes longer and I am becoming less relevant.

How many more years can my body endure?

People my age quit, is there really no cure?

I play with what I have and it's still fun as when I started.

I'm the old guy at events and clubs, I never get carded.

To keep going, I get lost in the music and live in the present.

If I think back or forth my mind will make me resent.

Back to practice with a small group of dancers.

They still come to me for all of the answers.

I guess I won't be the last one after all.

Instead, I kept the dance going, I come to their call.

I pass down my knowledge the best that I can.

I hope the dance continues, there's always a chance.

I'm not going anywhere as long as my feet keep steppin'.

I've lost my fear and just let things happen.