There was a festive redolence wafting in the night air, lingering in conjunction with an Irish melody. As I ambled further along this rustic path, something stifled my progress. Off in the distance, a melodious chant beckoned me to traipse further into this ancient domicile. Lured by hypnotic hand gestures, swaying to a rhythmic beat, I remained steadfast as a warm sensation glazed over my body with words not heard but felt, whispering—Life is the breath of the land.

I fought back the siren's song while salacious movements continued to lure me deeper. The path eventually led me to the theater as those once enchanting gestures started to evanesce.

Silence prevailed—

Then, a nervous tension lifted, rising toward the ceiling.

With each shuffle, anxiety spread like a single heart beat. Bodies moved like blood flowing through the veins, enticing disenchanted souls to their respective seats. And with the lights shimmering, a haze enveloped the entire theater leaving behind a warm, sophisticated ambience.

Such a sweet fragrance added to the mystique of what would be remembered as an experience and not merely a one night encounter. As if transported back in time, a true appreciation of the arts would be forever etched, masterfully manipulated into what could only be described as an orgasmic sensation.

Stymied briefly by the final movements of late stragglers, squeezing into their assigned seats, there was a deep pause as the remnants of restlessness finally dissipated.

Silence prevailed—

Moments later, The Morgenstern Trio took center stage.

A soft melody escaped through a meticulous labyrinth of strings and chords as each instrument accompanied their sister counterpart. Although competing for dominance, each sound was bound to their task master's every command where a perfect melody emitted from the stage like dancing flames, licking at the chests of saints and sinners.

Vigorously, each puppet master pulled and stretched strings relentlessly, whipping the dancing flames into a roaring frenzy now tearing through chest cavities and rib cages of those hallowed souls.

Tears cascaded upon the fingertips of the pianist as he tore feverishly into the very core of such a divine vehicle. Meanwhile, an eruption of intensity shrieked throughout the corridors like a screaming banshee, gnawing at the marrow of our celestial being.


Yet—possessed by this musical splendor, not a single soul was freed from bondage as famished eyes glared on. Whether a person was new to the arts or a seasoned veteran, he or she received an experience not soon to be forgotten in this life time or the next.

And again—silence prevailed.


This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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