Genre: Spirituality
I one day want to meet
the man who dances
with his fingers. He spins them,
twirls them, whirls them,
but does not
put them in a knot.
On each of his dexterous digits,
he tightens a tiny twine
and acts out
his eloquently
elaborate enactment
for his unknowing ensemble.
He built all backgrounds,
conceived all characters,
designed every destiny,
articulated every aspect.
The playwright had his operatic opus
primed to perform. He noticed
upon commencing,
no one sat within the crowd—
abysmal serenity.
The puppeteer pondered, peering
at his performers, and with a flick
of his finger, a man named Abel
appeared in the amphitheater’s auditorium.
The nimble-fingered man’s
marionette performance went on
for many years. No scrims dropped,
and several puppets pulled.
Abel was met by his brother,
then another and another.
I one day want to meet
the man who dances
with his fingers. I want to
see how he whittles his
marionettes as he throws
them away serially, how
he paints the skies as he molds
the flowers flawlessly, how he
blows wind in the trees as he stacks
rocks into mountains meticulously.
I do not wish to die.
I wish to see life the way the puppeteer intended.
See how close my predictions were.
Meet those who appreciated my act in the perpetual performance.
Then, I will watch the rest of everything.
WILDsound Writing Festival 