Imperial March: Episode 6

[Instead of something new, today it’s a poem that I wrote in Spring 2011, inspired by working in an empty theatre in the middle of the night. I am still completely swamped with university stuff, but if everything goes according to plan, I’ll be able to find some time to write the next few days.]

Laughing Faces

Hollowness
seeping from every corner;
silence where there were
voices laughing, arguing;
strangely shaped shadows
following everywhere.

An empty theatre;
an eerie theatre:
haunted by memories,
invisible audiences
watching your every step.

Where do performances go
when the curtain closes,
locked away,
never touched again?
Past shows creeping
after you like
a pantomime –
silent, mocking,
knowing.

Past characters whisper
behind every shadow –
Madame Danzard lurking in the darkness
beyond the ghost light’s beam,
eyes torn out,
forever judging.

Tools, unmanned now,
unused, waiting
for a new day,
a new show opening –
a never-ending rhythm.

Just a room;
more than a room:
a place where dreams come true –
three weeks to build up an illusion,
three hours to break it;
only memories remain.

An empty theatre;
a new beginning:

The stage is empty,
subject to your imagination,
at its highest potential now.

The magic is to see
how to use it.

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