A note floated in the air
suspended by the breath of thirty-nine of us
standing together on one stage.
In front of a scattered audience
with many red velvet chairs still
empty,
but it didn't matter.
The note stayed there,
aloft in the space of the great hall,
and
Cathedral-like reverence.
The drop of a hand,
and the note--
clipped--severed--
did not disappear.
Lingering reverberation:
echo enveloping memory.
A deep pause.
Applause.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
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2 comments:
This. Is. Art.
love.
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