Sitting there, a feeling struck me. A pulse played out on stage, they themselves could very well have been oblivious to it, but I saw it. There it was, basking in the cold stage lights. Looking around I could see the people, leaning in their chairs, eyes lit, soaking in every atom of the buzz. Some of them were so caught up in the moment that they, for an instant, let streams of tears abide their cheeks. Even the cold ones, the tightly held together ones, they felt it.
It was an ancient flow of feeling, something carried down for so long, from the play's writer, to the first actors, to those standing on stage in front of me now. It was a collected stream of light energy, invisible to the naked eye, but present non the less. The actors were channeling the pieces and fragments of the writers mind, making them real, incasing them in flesh and blood, casting them like shadows across the audiences enchanted eyes. Then, as soon as it had come, the pulse was gone. The lights dimmed once again and applause broke the lingering moment after the last words.
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I wrote this after I went to a lovely Shakespeare play. I had quite forgotten how much I loved plays. There is something so magical about them, the way they transport you is just wonderful.
3 comments:
Hello Rowan, I think your blog is charming. ♥ This is beautiful, I could almost feel that pulse myself. And the photograph is breathtaking. I shall visit the theatre one day, I shall, I must.
Oh thank you Thea! I shall be sure to visit your corner of the blogosphere sometime very soon. Thank you for your lovely comment, dear. The theatre is absolutely wonderful, I do hope you shall go soon.
xxoo
Oh, oh, what a joy this was to read. You are exquisite, and now I long for such plays. The most I have ever gone to are my school's musicals.. they are marvelous, really, but how I long for Shakespeare or Operas or ballets.
Thank-you for sharing and lighting my heart.
xxxxx
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