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The Obsidian Theater VIII: Tearful Adagio

Good evening

 

And welcome to tonight’s decadent performance

 

Curtains…

 

Out there

Some where

Is the one.

 

The one person that matters

The one person that will make everything different

I can see her now

But you think I’m seeing a specific person with particular physical features.

 

You’re wrong

 

I see a white light

A being floating above all else

 

She is a soul before the human

She is everything before I know what everything is

 

Her eyes caress me with shear benevolence

Her voice soothes the restless and weary

Her touch calms my frantic heart and all that ails me

 

Where is this fulfilling wonderment of a person?

Is she at the end of a life journey?

That only I need to take the first step?

 

Maybe a distant land coated in dunes of sand

Below the ocean of the sky.

 

Or

 

In the cozy city apartment

Reading the stories of poetic urban decay

And fantasy encounters.

The corridors of her minds’ catacombs

The labyrinth of her dreams and unspoken desires

Fleeting glimpses of rich suspension

Over vast beds of Baghdad silk.

 

Hazel ember eyes

 

 

 

Listen

 

Yes can you hear that?

 

In our silence, a lone tone can be heard; felt through us.

 

We are all partnered with an instrument.

This instrument plays the lone pitch of

Mine would be a number of instruments

 

A soft bow of a cello

 

A light note off a piano

 

The soft, mellow strum of a nylon guitar

 

The tearful violin

 

The noble French horn

 

The dreamy orchestral harp

 

The rise of a heavenly choir

 

The thump of a bass

 

Ave Maria

 

Sonata Allegro

 

Tearful adagio

 

Glistening swells of rippling arpeggios over transcendent phrases

Eternal crescendos scaling across plains of astral enchantments

Our absolution through forgiving sounds

Eclipsing tones that speak the whispers of angels

They are here

Trying to relieve us of daily anguish and clockwork regrets

But

You

Many of you

Ignore these simple phrases

Through dismal conversations

And

Uncultured prejudice

Manipulated through shallow ignorance

The music that is neglected begins to wilt

Diminish

In more ways than one.

 

Stop it…

 

It hurts them

The notes of life

Go away from the norm

Derive from what is socially accepted

Find that one musician

That one composer

That one singer

That no one listens to

 

No one

 

Just you

 

Make their music, your music.

Cater to that personal bond

Imagine the film of your life

Score to this wonderful

Solidarity

 

Please

 

This is for you

 

Not me.

 

Because I love you.

 

This is dedicated to: Gustavo Santaolalla, Geinoh Yamashirogumi, Christopher Nolan, Scarlett Johansen, Rodrigo y Gabriela, Jon Gomm, The Elephant man, Bach, David Lynch, Lisa Gerrard, Hanz Zimmer, Bob Marley, Trevor Jones, David Cronenberg, William Peter Blatty, Clint Mansell, Chef Ramsey, Vanessa Mae, Nosferatu, Sisters of Mercy, black Coffee, mouse pads, The Diving bell and the butterfly, The catcher and the Rhye, The Last of the Mohicans, Isabel Bayrakdarian, Rene Flemming, Sarah Brightman and Natalie Gray.

 

May you return if fate allows it to be.

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Written by
trevor-gates
26 / M / American
Published
Apr 15, 2013
Lines·Words
88·502
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