Dance of the Basket Snakes

Dance of the Basket Snakes

Beneath the moon, a figure stands,

A charmer with his practiced hands.

In shadows deep, his gaze is bold,

A mystic tale yet to be told.

The basket sways, a haunting sound,

As serpents rise from sacred ground.

With scales aglow, they twist and coil,

In rhythms strange, they slide and spoil.

No music plays, but breath and hiss,

The charm is cast in darkened bliss.

The charmer’s eyes, fierce and wise,

Keep watch as serpents rise and rise.

They dance in patterns, strange and wild,

A twisting ballet, soft and mild.

With each slow move, the air grows thick,

A timeless dance, an ancient trick.

The charmer sways, his hands take flight,

A silent whisper through the night.

The snakes obey, their bodies bend,

And in this trance, there is no end.

No dawn shall break, no light shall come,

For in this moment, night is home.

The basket rocks, the serpents spin,

A dance that swallows all within.