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.
Copyright ©
Bernard F. Asuncion
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