The Stage
The Stage
I am made of wood. I lie down under an assortment of bodies. Some are nervous, some are scared, and some are demonstrative. I love the feeling of ballet dancers, because they are graceful and light on their soft feet. When they jump, they land like silken lips from a mother’s kiss on her newborn. My walls and ceilings are curved just right enough to caress the sound and send it on its mystical journey to sympathetic spaces.
Although I am only wood, I have been a home and companion to Caruso, Horowitz, Stravinsky, Gershwin, Ellington, among the other greats. I was the focal point of their existence. I helped to shape their character as they aspired to achieve their dreams. When they reached into their sub-conscious, a shrouded voice spurred them on, and led them to me.
For the frightened and vacillated, I have been unmerciful but also congenial. Since I can’t show my emotions, I can only watch the performer’s faces as they go through their routines. Sometimes they are laborious, but other times free and dexterous. It depends upon how well they are prepared and how their minds are set. I hate to see them fail, but doesn’t everybody at one time or another? Isn’t excellence a variable occurrence when mind and body are in accordance with each other? All they can do is work toward it and hope for the best. When they find it, it is like the hands of the master doing it for them.
Even though I am only wood, I am charismatic. Even though I am silent, I transmit sound. Even though I am matter, I transcend dreams. Even though I lie dormant, I am effervescent. Even though I am insignificant, I am a focal point. I can raise my head and commend myself for being capable of influencing lives. I wish for all who walk upon me all the success and happiness that they deserve.
