'In the Beginning (The Overture)'

April 15, 2008|By E.L. SYVERSON

When music is a religion,
all venues are places of worship,
all stages are altars for prayer,
and all artists are gods.
Being here is enough to make me swoon.
Standing in the aisle,
just a few feet back from the stage,
feels a lot like being on the edge of a cliff.
I could fall either way.
Backwards would land me on the floor,
hands stuck in the slime there,
legs like Jell-O from shock and adoration.
My fists would clench as I admit defeat
and the crowd would pour in around me, choking me out.
But, oh, falling forward would bring such joy.
Plunging through the air,
falling to my knees at their feet,
reaching up with outstretched fingers,
and touching the tips of holy hands.
The gods caged beasts in these human forms
and the beasts have been trying to escape by any means possible.
This is why the gods gave the men voices,
voices that hold the secrets to damning and saving souls,
voices calling to me from 30 years ago.
I am undone.

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