In the theater of creation, there’s creaking in your seat. What are you creating today?
Of all the acts a be-ing can do, what have you decided to create today?
The shift had ended.
Sound of feet on gravel paths.
As the carnival fracas faded…
My feet carried me into the local theater of creation,
Disheveled - 5 o’clock shadow at noon.
From my seat the screen seemed silvery,
murmurings of those behind me…
breathing harder with creaking in their seats
They’d completely suspended their disbelief
A projector’s light fanned like watercolor splashes.
Painting the imaginations of yesterday’s bruised knees
and tomorrow’s fragrance.
The soul is a creation, just like any movie.
Within the theater of creation, innumerable landscapes and stories are written.
In the theater, do you find yourself suspending disbelief?