Twisting, twirling,
green, brown and grey -
light filters through a world created by
strangled symphonies, wars
recreated
On a stage in front of the arena,
lurking in the rafters, we are forbidden to watch
as twisting, steel frames roll
In a showcase of
"bravery".
White gowns cloak angelic golden chords,
The heat rises,
soldiers climb silk structures,
fleeing the beautiful horror below them.
We sit in darkness & observe the
Green light enveloping these
Incredible & untethered artists,
Flowers forming and breaking and shattering,
Scattering,
Everything so bright,
So bright,
and though each of us is only following
& though we have seen this now four times over,
We still donate each,
our tiny golden strings
To support those
suspended in great cages,
each knowing how this will continue &
having to pretend they do not -
Green & Brown & Grey
Light twisting, dappled & distorted
As it reveals a scene -
A war, turned into a twirling dance

A fear begins to take hold,
Uncertainty,
As the surrounding crowd
Settles into their places,
Unaware of the transfixing magic
they will soon see -
Thousands of golden strings
Twist together,
We prepare in
Near-silence,
And then we raise them -
A string on its own, weak,
But with one hand each,
One torch, one voice,
Across the thousands of us,
Suspends the observers below.