Curtains being rigged.
Colors of light being set.
Tapping of actors' pacing feet.
Strings from the orchestra accelerate in volume.
The smell of hairspray and Febreeze linger.
Anticipation consumes the air.
And then one.
The One.
One chance.
One shot.
One performance.
All or nothing.
All.
All the chances to be great.
All the chances to fail.
All the chances to be scared away.
Nothing.
Nothing but a show.
Nothing but what’s past.
Nothing but what could be.
It’s all out there.
Waiting to be seen.
To be heard.
To be felt.
To be shared.
After months
After days
After years
After what feels like years
It all falls into place.
Or so we hope.
We try.
We build.
We rehearse.
We plan.
We improvise.
We create.
Together.
Ensemble.
United.
One.
Singular sensation.
Feeling of exhilaration.
Pouring out of exhaustion.
Mixture of sweat, tears, and catharsis.
Pain and pleasure.
Love and fear.
Nerves and knowledge.
Giggles and gasps.
Secrets and self-realizations.
All this and more.
Everything and yet nothing,
After that curtain rises.
A bittersweet hello
Foreshadowing a harder goodbye.
But that’s another thought.
For another day.
Another time.
Right we have this.
This time.
This moment.
This hope that has been found.
This light in darkness.
A bottled night of magic
Uncorked and pours in glasses of champagne.
Mirroring the story we told tonight.
One shot.
One breath.
One more?
Hold please.
