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