Silence, the void before the sound,
It hangs between the watchers, as they
stare into the fire, burning in the center,
casting light in a myriad of shadows. And
all is still. Before them lie their instruments
nine, stringed and bowed, drums and fiddles.
They lift them to their sides as one, and all relax
as their hands caress their singing lovers. A breath,
drawn deep; released into the stillness of the night,
and the music sounds, as a cord too strained the tension
snaps, and the music soars on singing wings, waves of
light, of light and shadow, born on a wind of deepest
passion, out into the thrumming night, resonating with
their song. And so the music sounds, as the night awakes
and joins in their song.
A tribute to music
