The first movement

There it is:The familiar swirling of colors,The heat rising around,The faces.Everything is waiting. Time.Him(her).Them.They're all waiting for the first movement.The first word.The first color to be chosen. Like a swarm of butterflies the choices flood your mind, and you grab one.Time goes on. Applause.You grab another.Silence. Time stops again.Suddenly you're not alone.There's a force much like gravity pulling you down. Did I grab the wrong one?Did I touch them?Did I fail?That force seems to have done the same to everything around you now. The world falls:The curtain;The walls;The lights.The colors disappear as the butterflies run out ofTime. Everything rewinds.There it is.Scene. 

This poem is about: 
My community


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