Piano keys were then struck,
as if pressed by jagged
fingers of lightning; the notes resounded ~ lingering ....echoing,
like silent flashes
striking down, in the backdrop.
Drums soon followed, rolling-in like thunder,
keeping an accurate count ---- bo o o oming ----
making the couple known.
The tempestuous duo
became a trio though -
as in walked
another member,
as memory rushed in,
paving an entrance,
for this player conveying
temperance -
for this player joining
the tempest.
In this sky-of-a-stage
strolls ~
a
thief...
....A thief at the end of a line, which he himself had cast --
-- at the end of one of his own
self-devised tangents -
...reeling in, the fruits
of his
self-fulfilled prophecy.
Highs & lows reacquainted,
humidity rose ----
His lungs began to fill,
& his mind only longed to downpour.
Emotion would soon turn & drizzle
via his cloud-of-a-heart --
an instrument held
in-hand...
...a violin,
which he could not resist
to raise up
to his chin -
like two magnets
pulling at each other
till they ki...
....they kissed.
His eyes now so close to its polished face, to that glossy body... which he fogged, with each warm exhale.
His gaze crossing its bridge, streaming just up & over ---- tracing its strings,
to length --
to the top of its neck....
& then back down,
to its womb.
His eyes,
like invisible hands -
running, grazing gently,
gliding up & down
her curves,
outlining its figure,
coloring her in,
with potential - to not only make sound,
but also,
to sing.
with body, from a body
with emotion & soul -
from understanding & strength,
in a mind,
aware of the toll.
He would soon speak through her ----
burying his heart, while disentangling his head.
“Arco,” a voice then said.
He lifted his bow,
then readily placed it
across its throat,
while deftly holding its head,
but only
for a moment,
before the violin’s strings bled --
in tempo with the storm,
in tempo --
freezing
fear, violence, & bloodshed,
with a voice that
cracked like a whip,
off its roof,
from its tongue.
So it sung,
as he was happy,
& wept when he cried.
It prayed, as he pleaded,
& denounced disillusion -- with him --
alongside of him - from within him- through him
preserving him from decay
& disease, & downfall --
caught by those downwind
of
&
blind
to ---
lies ---- ----
Worshipping all that is true,
laying with woman & man,
as human,
looking past gender,
& color - with all of its trivial hues -
reaching out
---- to other worlds,
& undiscovered bodies,
to parents of thought, concept, & idea,
to the makers of tools --
to even the differing instruments -- even those without strings,
to the doers, to those whom make happen ---- all seemingly impossible things.
The clouds parted
when he first fell,
like opened windows.
Now -
they gathered, accumulated;
they concentrated,
like hardening concrete or cement.
It was the abstract, which brought him to this place.
It was the abstract, which brought him back.
But it would be the actual ...the concrete, which would allow him to leave. It would not bring him home, but it would bring him to where he needed to be. He never did have it in him - to challenge or argue such duties. He accepted this, trusting himself, as he had accepted himself, as he re-accepted himself, on stage once again, after re-equipping himself, with recalled assets.
He collected himself, piece by piece, re-collecting himself -
his moments for reflection ending, upon recollection of his past - of his pain.
It overtook him, but did not overweigh him.
As he was once permeated - he was now permeating the audience - injecting it, with rain.
The clouds had further amassed, & thus began to pour --
to shower down -- as he took flight & fell --
,,,, ,,,, ,,,, ,,,, ,,,, ,,,, ,,,, ,,,,
,,,, ,,, , , ,,, ,, ,,,, ,,, ,,,,
,, ,, ,, ,,,, ,, ,, ,,, ,, , ,, ,, ,
,, ,, , ,, ,, , ,, ,,, ,, ,,, ,,,,
,,, ,,,,, ,, ,, , ,, , ,,, ,,, ,,
,,, ,, ,, , ,, , , , , ,, ,, ,,
,, ,,, ,, ,,, ,,, , , ,,, ,, , ,
-- through the
tempest,
,,,
,,,
,,,
,,,
\\
\\
\\
\\
,,,
,,,
,,,
,,,
‘’
with lightning & its roar.