Poor fella. Apocalyptic he is. But he is just a man. Prone to mistakes and as errant as the next funny named boy. Nigel is nigh with a grin and a dance because he knows something and he’s never forgotten. The storm is a storm. No matter how drastic and no matter how long lasted, the storm is such because it isn’t everything else. It is a visitor only. A relative companion, an intrigue and a turd stirrer from way back. Nigel knows and he dances the wake spirits limp without ever trying.
Because he can and because he will, Nigel is nigh and he’s laughing for those who would not take his hand for a spin. Grim and grim and grim they are with ne’re abating gloom. Oh! It is the end and it is always the end of course it’s the end and isn’t it marvelous? Nigel doesn’t ask for nods of agreement, Nigel is nigh and he dances. Never ignoring and never pretending, Nigel is nigh and he dances, I tell you he dances!
In spite of, despite, as opposed to, aren’t triggers. His feet tap and arms swing only because they can and only because they will. Yes, Nigel is nigh and he knows something simple: reality is and it always is and of course it is and isn’t it marvelous?
Do what you will and well. Is Nigel’s mother tongue and in the end it is he who dances with the storm and with everything else too. Nigel is nigh and he dances over and through, under and atop. He’ll pause at a wink from anyone’s eye and reach out his hand to every different drummer. Poor fella. Apocalyptic he is? He is just man making mistakes. But he is nigh that Nigel and yeah, he is dancing. Isn’t it marvelous?