Inside the cloak of an amused Musician
Is a laugh at such a disguise,
Strung in a web of evolutionary chime,
Inevitably unable to unravel the woven puzzle
In terms of scale.
Seeing himself as a mote of dust in sunlight
Putting on the show.
Meshed in environmental scenario,
Cast to read the symphony of subtleties
He is strung into;
Sometimes not seeing through the wings of the stage.
Fed to feel out conditions
Like a goldfish that breathes in and out
A globe of the same water.
Exposed into life the musician hides
In all the paraphernalia of living,
All so lucid.
Having come through doors between legs
To play dice in the arena.
The midwives exchange the cords hanging babies out to try
In this theatre of company.
Musicians play, not seeing themselves in orchestra
As pictures of our talent hang on the walls
Of stage scenery
That are the windows to view beyond.
Musicians Play, Not Seeing Each Other in Orchestra