Art of sublimation

In the hallowed corner space.
Where lights kiss the dust,
A prima ballerina, poised with grace,
Unfurls her wings of trust.
Her satin slippers whisper secrets,
Threads of moonlight spun,
As pirouettes weave dreams and regrets,
In the dance of stars begun.

The stage, her canvas, brushed with stardust,
Her body, a vessel for celestial fire,
She pirouettes through tempests and gusts,
A phoenix reborn from desire.

Her tutu flutters like a fragile moth,
Caught in the moon's silver snare,
Every arabesque, a silent oath,
Ascending beyond earthly care.

The orchestra swells, a symphony of yearning,
Strings taut with longing's refrain,
As she leaps, defying gravity's warning,
Her spirit unshackled, free from pain.

And when the final curtain descends,
Her silhouette etched against the night,
She leaves her mortal self, transcends,
A prima ballerina, bathed in starlight.
She is poetry, etched in moonlight.