A Guest Post by Samuel Steere
[A Word from Mr. Pond: Here’s the second installment in our exploration of music and fantasy–and the act of subcreation that infuses both.]
I don’t like this stage.
Hot lights pour down on me as my arms flail,
drowning in expectation as sound attempts
to emanate from my vocal chords
which tie me down, binding me to perception.
I am not me, only a caricature of a person
that has never existed.
I am not alone.
This stage is filled with facade,
parading around in a masquerade of artifice,
those artificial face-coverings denying the display of identity,
an identity stolen by lights, laughs and
the six feet between the stage and reality.
Who knew that death was above, not below the ground?
And so I like this stage.
The heat of the lights gives warmth to my skin
as my arms demonstrate beauty and strength.
Expectation drowned by dramatic performance
as vibration stirs from the chords of my freedom.
Music is freedom, denying the confines of perception
and piercing to the unsuspecting core of calloused cacophony.
I am myself, my two-stringed instrument completely unique.
Vocalization speaks my soul into being, and I find myself in the melody.
But I remember…only one Voice can resurrect this faceless corpse on the stage.
In the vicarious vivacity of that Voice, I am alive and existing on any stage…
And I am not alone.