Curtain Closing

Colleagues, Comrades, fellow actors in this stage of life... Friends. As we don our make-up and our masks, heed the calls for the final time, I bid all, first, my gratitude.

For each moment behind the stage,
Before the curtain rises,
Has been spoken for,
Enliven by your spark of life.

Through courage and tears,
Trepidation, the ferocity to preserve what remains of us,
Our voice, suddenly fallen.
Then, unexpectedly, with an ounce of care and love,
Applied as a balm to heal bruised egos, failed prides.

What once succumbed to lessor things,
Now stands fulfilled in the greater glory of bigger causes.
It matters no longer who catches us when we are crest fallen.
But a sprig of love, from the tree abundant,
Is more than welcomed, embraced,
Though the seats can be cold, hard and empty.
And the cast all too focused on dreams.

The lines you speak may be a fleeting utterance,
A flutter cast and then lost in the winds and currents of time,
But to those whom might have caught them,
With the web of the heart, softly assenting,
When the magic spell is lifted,
Perhaps then.

The light of a new day finds one new dew sparking joyously in the sun.
Maybe I do not hear your voice,
I do not recognise your face, your uniqueness,
But I heard what you say.
I hear what all of you said.
And with that, I know that you were there.
As was I.

So while the night tarries,
And the audience waits,
And those backstage breathes in anticipation,
I urge you, once, upon curtain open,
To look closely.

Look your adversary in the eye; to discover your lover.
They are out there, in the darken aisle and columns,
Seeking intently, trying to find you in your nakedness,
And the message you tell.

Even though the lights may blind you,
Even though you do not hear their voice,
You do not recognise their face, their uniqueness,
Hear them for what they have to say.

Fellow cast, and members,
I have this to say.
I, of a lessor role, the jester-in-kind.
Please be kind.
For today is the last day,

And tonight all dreams will come to an end.
We were not unite in the beginning,
And perhaps, we still aren't.

For this brevity, our paths have brought us together,
perhaps in truce, perhaps in trance,
Enthralled by the momentous asking
Seduced by the task.

All too soon, the curtain will open,
All too soon, the curtain will close,
While we depict the ones we are acting,
And in-between, while we are whom we are,
Know reality and it's line, are often as dreams do.

Rejoice, Rejoice, Rejoice,
For each moment we give birth,
We fill them with our energy,
The halls reverberate with our union,
Because suddenly there is no you nor I.
All in this blaze of glory,
and then subside.

As the embers of passion fades away,
With a sigh.

Dedicated to all, visible or invisible who made this dream real, and also to a person who sat and tarried a short while and asked about dinner.

~WaiHong~