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The Concert MAG
I was late for the concert, I slipped in unnoticed
And lurked in the darkness that pooled to the rear,
I let my mind wander, and eyes over faces,
The ocean of faces, sing Godly and clear ...
Each face was so human, so bound by the Earth
As to walk on her face as a daughter of Eve,
Yet living, my breath was caught cold in my breast
As my gaze fell upon a face far from the rest ...
My heart ceased its toil, my limbs froze like winter,
As yearning's fair winter set in on my soul,
Our eyes met so briefly, yet yearning had trapped me,
The winter of yearning, desire so cold.
She was a dream ... first her eyes struck me,
Mirrors set in the pools of Eden ...
Gossamer strands of angel's hair
Flow, flow, flow,
Trickle as the rivers of Paradise.
A smile so warm, a face so angelic,
Pure, untainted, a white rose
Mixed so wrongly with eleven of red
Dozens of voices poured over my soul
Like so much milk and honey ...
... But I heard only the cries of an angel.
So quick, so fleeting as the concert fell twilight,
Her delicate form glided out of the door ...
Suddenly, I felt empty ... and whole.
The man next to me asked me what I thought of
the concert ...
"She was wonderful," I whispered in reply ...