All the time
All the quiet tears
The full-throated sobs
The years of stress, and
The instant of unequalled joy.
The moments of intensity
Every ounce of artistic energy
Every instrospective interrogation
The moments of questions
Of why
And of how?
And of what am I doing?
All the delectable
Blissful seconds
Establishing communication
Voice to hands to strings to keys
Loving conversations
Between other people's eyes
And souls and psyches.
All this for a moment
Already gone.
All this to create
A collective memory of Beauty
For a room of strangers.
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