Ghosts Of Concerts Past
do you hear it?
or did I feel it?
maybe we're all too young to understand it.
but I do.
the words are ink
spilled
carefully across the rhythm.
but we listen carelessly, or all too closely.
the beat feels closer, tapping on veins and
filling our heads
with reckless dreams.
I feel this power.
a thousand and three bodies
pressed behind me,
carelessly alive.
our voices are a chorus of misfits
there's high and there's low.
there's the bass
endlessly echoes
deep in your chest,
the core of
the crowd.
the music fills me
with the universe.
each chord is a galaxy.
this is more than sheet music
this is more than a drumkit
this is the light in my eyes
this is what it means to feel alive.
every moment is a spark,
and they hang in the air,
vibrant, pulsing ghosts
i'm haunted in the best way.
I see my friends' faces
they're singing along.
It makes it easy to forget
that anything came before.
all I can remember is the folded white ticket
they checked at the door.