We Dance

by Death To Stock

...And on harvest nights when the moon lies turns all to ice, when mist fills the hollow so that the glow blinds as much as it illuminates, when the scent of stone and damp makes a lonely passer-by shiver... Nights when the heart quakes, when the dark seems more than shadow, when bone and dust seem nearer than hearth and flame...
These are the nights we dance—for the dance will drive away the wild unholy. The dance will warm our blood and stave off death's hunt. We dance because we are not in the grave, we are not prey to crimson claw or fang, and when at last we die, we will never be ghast nor spore. For rot may ruin these fragile bodies at the last, as even the finest blade must rust, but we are more than flesh, and we shall rise.
Thus, on harvest nights when the moon lies turns all to ice, when mist fills the hollow so that the glow blinds as much as it illuminates, when the scent of stone and damp makes a lonely passer-by shiver... On these nights, when you pass a rune to mark where a fellow body now lies, stop and pass a few light steps in honor of the spirit that lives. We dance against death, and we live.

From the Litany of Life, a fragment from Wakari Death Memorials

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This is my Spooktober entry, incorporating each of the 31 prompts into a single work.