Friday, October 20
the star
the performer stands in the middle of the stage
all eyes on him
he takes a deep breath
and lifts his instrument,
with practiced swiftness
to that nook under his chin
does the star have a voice?
he makes no utterance
other than the sound of the instrument in his hands
he has no voice
besides the song written by another
his fingers fly over the strings
it's about flow and control
flow and control
what are his struggles
his joy
his sorrow
the thoughts and emotions that are running through his head?
he has no voice
his face is twisted in melancholy and torture
but no longer does one see the face of the star
his music is beautiful
it tugs at the soul of the audience
but they do not see him
they only see the instrument
the hands that play the instrument
he cannot stop
he cannot make a mistake
he cannot put his instrument down till it has spoken its piece
but how can the performer speak his?
the lights are directed on him
all eyes are on the star
but the heart of the performer is not in his instrument
it's in the music
it's in the creeping and interlacing of the orchestra of sounds
that flow through the progression of time.
the performer ends his piece
but it is not a bright smile he wears
his face is tired. tight. wistful.
the instrument is battered
discolored from age.
but it doesn't matter
for its voice is beautiful
under the shower of applause
the reluctant star bows and leaves
in afflicted silence.
0. oOo
