Poetry by Michael Smolens and Second Sight Music

..... poetry .....

"The Jesters and The Master"

The two Jesters did not merely take the stage,
they commanded it,
Their energy swirling around them
like rainbows refracting en masse.

When this couple from the South played—
    him the guitarist, her the vocalist,
Their costumes appeared to change before our very eyes,
    seamlessly,
        from jester to juggler to jouster,
        from ventriloquist to contortionist to aerialist.
Their eyes and mouth colluding
    to defy the exact location of the music
    at any given moment.

And their music was
    intriguing,
    brilliant,
    virtuosic.
Embodying the motion that audiences crave,
    Music of The Spheres,
    and the movement of their bated breath.
The same motion that reminded them of
    the sea,
    the birds,
    the primeval land creatures that haunted their childhood.

Then, the Master approached the stage,
alone with his guitar,
His countenance unassuming,
as if he was about to merely entertain a friend.

When the Master from the North played,
    his costume also appeared to change before our very eyes,
    seamlessly,
        somewhere between a pilgrim and a dervish,
With eyes like translucent pools which spoke of
    absolute concentration and
    divine witnessing.

His playing was
    Deep
         the quieter he played
         the louder it sounded.
    Still
         the faster he played
         the slower it felt.
    All-Knowing
         the more minor chords he chose,
        the brighter it became.

While his voice was
    Cool
         Warm
              Embracing

He embodied the state that his audience secretly longed for,
     Music of The Eternal,
     and the movement of Nature's glance.
The same state that reminded them of
     seeing a wild animal at rest,
Their breath suspended,
     not because it stopped,
     but because it moved slower than clouds thinking.

So I ask you,
who was the real magician?

dedicated to Master Brazilian musician Guinga

November 2010

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