Opera House

I sit here, exposed, in awe of the

Thunderous applause, the roaring screams and

Heavy tears of joy beating down from the angels above me

Seated in the highest boxes of an Earthen opera house

Begging for an encore of your story

Because the story, which tells of your difficult search for home

Has come to such a wonderful and satisfying finale

But sitting here I can’t help but feel that

That applause, those tears and screams

Are not for a tale of such favor but

For a story more darkly and beautiful told,

Like the ceiling of this house of the heavens, with its starlight candles

One told for someone sitting here in its pews

A tragedy yet still unfolding

It’s the tragedy of a hero who journeys through

Those angelic disturbances of the house under the candles

For glimpse of what has been found in your story, all to no avail

Somewhere out there, far away from where he lay,

Is where he will find it, he is quite sure, although he will not

He tells himself that when he does, he shall tell you, that seeks to know

What he has found and what it is.