The poem begins with a bleak, almost deflating view of human life. We are small, wrapped in skin the speaker compares to leather, and dressed in "colored rags" so we look bigger to others who are just as small. Even our desires seem pointless, sent off in "flimsy metal sails" from nowhere to nowhere. Talking is no better: we mouth "empty waves of air" to people who don't understand, and "hello" and "goodbye" turn out to be the same word.
Then the tone shifts. Dancing arrives in short, quiet lines that copy the movements: a step forward, a step back, a twirl, a stop, arms raised, head bowed. The mood becomes calmer and more graceful, even a little reverent. The final question, "Is he the dancer or the dance?", suggests that in movement the person and the act become one. After all the loneliness and smallness, the speaker seems to find a moment of meaning, though it is left open as a question.