Silent Applause

They start in whispers and with gaps

for pure thought to seep in the cracks

until their singing is wailing an alcoholic

shot of pure adrenaline, pulsing within

the veins of the crowd and you wonder

to yourself if it isn't too loud, they've

allowed a select few to view them this way -

with their souls bare and voices throbbing

through the red and yellow stained glass,

the performance has started, the phones

are powered-down, there's nothing left

now except for musical sound and your

brain shifting cogs and levers and changing

music back to whispers of thoughts from your

past or just music that lasts and the

sentiments felt oh-so-long-ago come in

goosebumps across your arms,

and the hours of practice finally pay off or

maybe they don't for one particular note,

but you keep moving along maybe no one

will notice, and your conductor heeds you

on down his path full of purpose to a major

chord or arpeggio that their tiny brains can

grasp so they know where completion is at

last,

and the voices are louder now in your

head, telling you what to speak or to be

silent instead. Your foot taps along as your

heart pounds to the song and the moment

is done and the door slams shut.