White Noise [Poetry]

09

| last show|

the lights are dimmed and warm
as the conductor bows, not yet worn
he calls a silence over the hall
breathes in deep to build his binding

the first chord is soft, curious
it explores, tempting what is around it
then a breath, a suspended inhale
quick is the strike of life, now exhale

weighted hands guide the musicians flow
body swaying at the building excitement
and the lights are hot as vibrations fill the bodies built to show
anticipation growing as the song distracts for the climax

notes blur with familiarity
a practiced dance born of solidarity
but the light blinds what is around it
noise filling what has always been empty to entertainment

the second inhale of life calls a pause
a weighted silence, an agreement or understanding
this exhale is slow, passion retreating as the heart searches for cause
but the hands don't stop, bleeding the emotion, demanding

an understanding of what can not last forever
performers agreeing to end the show, no longer together
the lights are dimmed and warm
hands are released from strings, red and worn
the conductor turns to greet the silence
cushioned seats for the empty audience of the last performance