--Joseph Conrad
 |
Gold proscenium frames the old stage restored.
Softly the strings seek,
exhort, something there
Seeks what is not
there, sounds of the mind
Original once,
imprecise, heard prior to
Or in the making, music
not content
To fade upon thought
but spared destruction
Through the young
conductor weaving meager forms,
Learning boldness while
dark seats listen empty
To the last rehearsal
for opening night,
Seated ghosts early
haunting
What fades in the
flickering.
Sounds resolve to
silence but changed,
Rescued from rain when
the building fell to hard times,
Silent films between
the wars darkened,
Lost or flashed beyond
the stage
Much louder then, and
still the footsteps
Rustling silken gowns,
elegant arms
Hold elegant arms in
formal black
When you climb balcony
stairs in the dark,
Find your way blind to
the glow
Of something like Time
announcing the Grand Lobby
Disembarking carriages,
not cars from the street
And here at last are
people I know, can see
Like me fleshless past
the flickering touch
I wouldn’t have missed,
gone now,
Sounds falling
only as Thought
To compose for others
to rehearse the fading
Original once,
imprecise, heard prior to
Or in the making, more
affinity with ghosts
Housed in this shell,
thin protection salvaged
At the last hour after
civically condemned—
Momentary reprieve for
the stage and lights,
Couples in the foyer,
he shaking rain from umbrellas,
Elderly on furlough for
the evening
From flowered rooms and
droning screens,
The boy who plays
violin on days he’s unhappy,
Furiously plays happy
for the night
And clean, brightly the
music cleans—
An aging theater in the
grand style spared destruction,
Music rising on the
last rehearsal,
The lighted stage shows
empty seats.
I stand among the
balcony ghosts,
Music not content to
fade upon thought,
Original once but
held
By notes heard prior to or in
the making,
Rehearsing to the empty
seats
Eager to be filled on
opening night.
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