Four anxious, solemn statues
Bathed in eerie crimson light
Guitars in hand, backstage we wait
I, the farthest to the right
Bulldozers push against my stomach
Jackhammers pound my chest
One act left, excitement builds
The Pianist begins his test
His vivid music paints the air
Each note precise and certain
I, myself gaze straight ahead
Eyes fixated on the curtain
This vault of gold-hued cloth
So jealously guards its Treasure
Two hundred ears, two hundred eyes
To listen and to measure
My fingers tense like soldiers
Marching off to war
A troupe of nimble acrobats
As I pluck the strings, they’ll soar
Anticipation crescendos
The piano follows suit
Each chord screams out inside my head
Demanding to be set loose
The pianist ends
Thunderous applause
Then shattered with silence
The Curtain Parts