This piece was written many years before Michael Flattely hijacked the term "Lord of the Dance"
Thomas Matthew Edgar
No path laid out to show the way,
the unknown lies ahead.
Untold horizons shift and play
before you, widely spread.
Do you go back or venture forth,
or turn to left or right?
Or stay exactly where you are,
trapped in an endless night?
No travelled road has been bestowed,
nor barely trodden path.
Should you ford that stream, in troubled dream,
would it tempt the Devil's wrath?
The danger of the undefined
can only burden you,
if your courage fails and you're left behind
to pay the coward's due.
Do nothing and you'll lose the way.
Seek not, and you will find
your spirit dying in decay,
becalmed, forever blind.
Which way to turn to conquer death,
to where a blind man sees?
The answer, like an angels breath,
comes whispering through the trees.
Look to the forest of your mind.
The answer lies within.
The clue is there for you to find:
a sign, how to begin.
Be bold, and take that random leap.
Take hold, and chains will fall.
Meet with your demon face to face,
and you'll break down that wall.
Laugh at your devil as you stride ahead,
never giving a backward glance,
your crippling dread of him now dead.
Step with the 'Lord of the Dance'.