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Tip of the Horn
It starts with the cellos
Low drag of the bows
Cross dead strings
To bring sinister undercurrents
As violins, violas slowly wisp
Into the sound
Snaking round the basslines
Like vampire smoke under locked doors
Beautiful chokesong
Hark! woodwinds swell beneath us
A solitary oboe
Takes mystic melody forefront
To sway and purge, temporarily, the darkness
'Til timpani strike deep
The devil's rhythm beats time
A behemoth's march, slow and strong
Cybals roll to crashes
Like swords on armor
And then, with fanfare
The brass begins
Trombone and tuba
Tread with force into the field
Steady, steady
'Til nearly every instrument has joined the cacophony
Crescendo, steep and stiff
A wall of clamour
Larger, louder, larger, louder
Building building building
And then...then...then
Abrupt stop
A solitary trumpet steps forth
Its resonating pronouncement echoes throughout the hall
From the tip of the horn
To the bell
And into the air
Filling space with a fragrant
And regal noise
To present the grand finale
The sound fades then
Slowly it decays
As the rest of the orchestra reappears
With a solemn serenade
To solitude and strength
And slowly
One by one
Each member's voice falls silent
Until none are left
But the weeping cello
Who soon, in turn
Dies smoothly
Leaving an air of fulfillment
Only stillness
Silent is the theatre
As the audience exits
They have been moved
To anger or tears none is sure
But they have been moved
