The dance was the answer to every question they had ever asked.
It was the meaning they had sought, the purpose they had craved.
It was a story that was not written in words, but in the silent, graceful language of the heart.
A story that was not about what happened, but about what is.
A story that was not for them to tell, but for them to be.
And in being the story, they found a peace that surpassed all understanding.
A peace that was not the absence of conflict, but the presence of a deep and abiding harmony.
The harmony of a universe that was finally, and completely, at one with itself.
The echo of the real.