Hold The Applause

The final note, a shimmering release, The dancers still, caught in a frozen grace, A hush descends, a palpable decrease Of breathing, held within this sacred space. No eager claps, no fervent, loud acclaim, But silence rich, a velvet-lined embrace, Where echoes of the beauty gently claim The beating heart, and settle on each face. For some true art demands no quick reward, No sound burst, however well-intended, But quiet awe, a moment to record The deep truth, before the magic's ended. So let the breath be held, the spirit stirred, Before a single grateful sound is heard.