It is no surprise that every being knows how to dance when it is forced to dance, when being itself is a dance. Do not deride any being for having odd moves and stubling over itself on the dance floor when it is dancing to a song it did not create. It is luck or grace for a being to be able to riff with this primal song, and find a unique and individual variation of it. Dance gracefully or gracelessly, with passion and zeal or without them, sure. But dance we must, and always. Even death itself can be seen as but another dance move, like a bow, whether it is final or not.
Love the Dust 