For a brief instant
at days end
the dancingness spoke quietly to the singingness
The theater
will always fade
I'm resigned
I'm resigned to
being memory
An actor with the gentle voice
whispered the harshest words
from the mask
as she courted
playingness
We left
with two empty hands
out of which
beauty revolved
as delicate as palms
centring the universe of the heart
You may no longer hold anything
not the twilight story
flute fading into the silent voice of your
peers and colleagues who had sung
in your circle
You are gone
All action will dissolve into
the living pulse
I'm pensive
Once more
will an old actor reciting alone
through empty space
text written by ancient forgotten players
wandering aimlessly
the lost landscape of shadow night
echoing out ...
O listener
share the mystery without turning away
let the time between us all
strip away false hopes
into the brilliant light
before the breath
exposes the fragile illusion which
so delicately flickers aura
forever again
forever again

- See: Poetry

:: note :: ... a workshop ends with quiet dignity ... am in awe of the theater workers .. many thanks ...