Waiting

The spellbound crowd watches in silence,
Holding their breath, hoping for success.
As they watch each successive row grow
It is as if time has stopped and something
Incredible is happening, they are lost in awe
Thinking the performer has brought them there
When in fact it is a fascination with being
Held in the hand of timelessness, of
Quieting the self within and finding center
The center created at the beginning of time
One that never goes away, we mistake it as
The gift of the performer, when in fact it is the sacred
Seeping in through the cracks of silence and still
Holding our breath before God as a community
Lost in the divine embrace until the show is over
Clapping our hands at the accomplishment brought
By such simple means it will not last because
The throng will not experience the same feel
Again and that is what we expect, to demand
The holy as a consumer, when all we have to do
Is stop