2021, end of the year. A LIVE rehearsal. A poetry to grasp the feeling of awareness in rehearsal, in taking nothing for granted, cherishing the moment and feeling the intensity of finally some live play full of concentration and amazing memories of end-of-year.
Now I'm in a room and among people who are
Like me, are here to play and we just,
Started so open-minded and pure,
Ignorant and free.
A hall with mirrors in the soul,
And in those mirrors we see ourselves as Makers of this World,
And in those mirrors what we think should live comes to life,
A hall of ideas and good spirit,
As a group of makers breathes.
In this room with
Wear and Tear, dirty walls, cracks in a ceiling we observe,
In concentration and in play as focus alone,
Time lets us play.
On impulse and moment,
And in those moments we are the Makers of this World,
And in those moments we are together,
A group together,
As a group of makers are.
And as autumn turns into
Winter, spring, and the windows allow sunlight into our midst,
And not the wrong curtains,
And not any drudgery without entertainment,
And not any action for the sake of action.
And as the seasons go, we see light as Makers of this World,
And that play of light is cherished,
As a group, light becomes our light,
As a group of makers makes.
And in the rehearsal, in the beginning of the beginning, playing,
When players don't know each other, character is still,
Shaping, like the process,
Choices, emotions and thoughts,
Lest the end already force a start.
The true beginning can only start by us as Makers of this World,
Makers who start something,
Who can also stop nothing,
As a group of makers can.
It doesn't interest me, when I am in the room, what's up for the next hour
It's the room and the group; that breathes, the group that makes and can,
In mirrors and play,
In light, darkness and seasons,
There is no end without a start.
Now I am in a hall and among people of Makers of this World,
Makers.
In rehearsal.
Open-minded and pure.