Maestro, Please
Sit back now, O Listeners;
But shortly you will not be
The breathing wood of the framework here,
Scarcely can strive to contain you!
The curtains ascend and the silence unbends;
The Maestro has ordered a rally!
The bows fling you forward into unfathomed sea,
Bring you out of your close-minded alley
Harp strings sing golden, piccolos ebony
Brass scatters pearls, percussion hard diamonds;
String section pours out cascades of sapphires
That rise to sweep blazing 'cross Heaven's empire!
The oboes reach deeper to lead you down under
To forests of emerald waves;
Streams of quicksilver from woodwinds do quiver
And guide you upward to behold:
Sun's blazing chorus, burns right o'er the surface;
You touch it as you break from the sea!
Fortissimo astounds you, fermata swells 'round you,
And the orchestra returns you to your seat.
~One of my recent projects.
No comments:
Post a Comment