Separate hands. Divided tracks
expressing the battle within. Musical
fingers, the dance of a tapping theory.
Deep roots of song flush to the surface;
a dilation is then quick to expand.
Drums beating out thoughts pause then
continue, marking paths to an immediate change;
the impertinence of youth is an undeniable
salve.
Dancers warm the floor with their feet.
Curtains open, releasing the witness of story
and myth. Bright lights chase shadows from
the stage. The audience reacts with a unison
of delight.
The night cools off. The story continues
to the street.
Roger Singer 