Music Soul Child

The big band takes the stage.

I wade through the taught bodies having been seized by the beat.

The maestro fidgets about conducting their ecstasy.

But the beat has long since escaped his purview.

The drums no longer respond to the tap tap of the heavy set man affixed to the stool

Nor do the strings screech at the pluck of lithe fingers crisscrossed with cuts.

The horns only served to declare the arrival of something more primal.

The sound of a sovereign song strides into a consciousness all its own.

The patrons and party goers revel in the moment

Clapping and whooping as if to celebrate the new life.

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