Title? not sure
A poem I was inspired to write. i changed it around a bit since having people read it, so let me know if you understand what i'm talking about, if there are any holes, etc. thanks!
There is something about a talented performance group.
Singing together, laughing together.
No audience around.
Just a family together, creating magic in the basement.
creating a symphony in a lounge.
The jokes, the camaraderie, and the togetherness.
The same seen on stage; there it is each Monday and Wednesday night.
And then, they share it.
They open a window. They allow all those unable to perform to watch.
Those who are tone-deaf,
those with not a funny bone in their body. All are welcome.
But on that stage, they aren’t doing anything different really.
Just having fun, and doing what they do best. Whatever else is going on in life,
conflict, worries, work that has yet to be done
all of that is left behind.
The one difference?
There happens to be a roaring, clapping audience.
Putting their desires into their guffaws, providing fuel and energy with their claps.
But, what it is in it for these watchers?
The incapable. Why do they keep coming back?
Living vicariously, perhaps. Sitting in their seats, yet experiencing the performers’ thrill.
But, it’s more than that. It is forming a relationship.
Forming a connection with the performers. A bond.
Yet every audience member believes the same.
A belief that they “know” those on that stage.
But seeing into a window is not that same as leaping through it.
There is a boundary.
A pane of glass between those facing the stage and those standing upon it.
Come on.
Those performers don’t know who you are.
They couldn’t pick you out in a line-up: some bond that is.
You go back because you wish you could be a part of it. A desire grows.
A desire to be a part of the select few up there. Part of that family.
The final night of the season comes, and it’s time to say goodbye
to your favorite singer to your favorite comedian.
You see them embrace, you see the glazed look in their eyes,
And you see them struggle to stifle their tears as they speak of their parting brother;
You cry as well.
He lived your dream. He had something you never will,
and now he must leave it and inevitably move on, to be replaced by another.
You wanted to feel their happiness,
But now too, you feel their sorrows.
There is something about a talented performance group.
Singing together, laughing together.
No audience around.
Just a family together, creating magic in the basement.
creating a symphony in a lounge.
The jokes, the camaraderie, and the togetherness.
The same seen on stage; there it is each Monday and Wednesday night.
And then, they share it.
They open a window. They allow all those unable to perform to watch.
Those who are tone-deaf,
those with not a funny bone in their body. All are welcome.
But on that stage, they aren’t doing anything different really.
Just having fun, and doing what they do best. Whatever else is going on in life,
conflict, worries, work that has yet to be done
all of that is left behind.
The one difference?
There happens to be a roaring, clapping audience.
Putting their desires into their guffaws, providing fuel and energy with their claps.
But, what it is in it for these watchers?
The incapable. Why do they keep coming back?
Living vicariously, perhaps. Sitting in their seats, yet experiencing the performers’ thrill.
But, it’s more than that. It is forming a relationship.
Forming a connection with the performers. A bond.
Yet every audience member believes the same.
A belief that they “know” those on that stage.
But seeing into a window is not that same as leaping through it.
There is a boundary.
A pane of glass between those facing the stage and those standing upon it.
Come on.
Those performers don’t know who you are.
They couldn’t pick you out in a line-up: some bond that is.
You go back because you wish you could be a part of it. A desire grows.
A desire to be a part of the select few up there. Part of that family.
The final night of the season comes, and it’s time to say goodbye
to your favorite singer to your favorite comedian.
You see them embrace, you see the glazed look in their eyes,
And you see them struggle to stifle their tears as they speak of their parting brother;
You cry as well.
He lived your dream. He had something you never will,
and now he must leave it and inevitably move on, to be replaced by another.
You wanted to feel their happiness,
But now too, you feel their sorrows.