In the empty concert hall

The ballerina stretches her legs

In two hours, the room will be abuzz

Hundreds of people flocking together

Eager to watch the trance-like dance

Of a dozen young women

In pastel lace and pointed shoes

While the orchestra sings beneath them

Silken violins and fluttering flutes

That leap and glide with the dancers

The crowd applauding at every pause

And blinding lights beaming down

On their pirouettes and pliés

But for now, she is alone

The ballerina on the vacant stage

Peering out over the unfilled seats

Her open arms fly free

In arabesques and jétes

She becomes as a butterfly

Who is always the most brilliant

In the silent stillness of nature

Unwatched and untouched

She curtsies for no one

There are no hands to clap for her

No feet to stand or lips to yell for an encore

But she hears them all the same

In the quietness of her mind

She is the star she can never be

When she is merely a dot among the other dancers

A puzzle piece without a name

In two hours, she will once again be

A cloud assimilating with the sky

But for now, she is a butterfly

Finding that in tranquility

Her beauty can truly be heard