music, fuck yeah

she sat mid-audience beside the man with the umbrella
on a tuesday lurching under the weight of october's moods;
tithed her attention along with the rest of the matinee's congregants
and closed her eyes

~

the concertmaster offered the violin’s first notes
filling the hole of the whole that didn't even know it existed
until the conductor raised his baton and left hand in perfect symmetry

~

the rest was the slow roll of awakening
as oboes and bassoons coaxed strings and winds and percussion,
and the wash foamed and surged over everyone with the ears to Here ~

Here; where eternity and infinity coupled and sired eighth notes and flat threes and golden lines that
broke open into firefly cascades and rocked the mystics and positivists without prejudice or favour

stars poured from the theater's hidden altars,
planets rolled up the aisle;
eyes gave themselves to ears that prostrated on hearts
that whispered secrets back to the first violins

~

she sat beside the man with the umbrella
on a tuesday lurching under the weight of october's moods ~
as Novas bounced off them like errant raindrops;
as the first hope in 34 years gardened a barren spirit's womb,
and she was Found.