Hot Lights

Hot lights beam

and my life is changed.

I sit

with a changed life

a symphony glaring,

my tool in hand.

The hot lights beam

and a pair of hands compel me

to play,

play not for the hands or for myself,

but for ears I cannot hear,

for eyes I cannot see,

for souls I cannot quantify.

Yet

my seat

and the lights

and these souls,

breathing in the sounds,

change me.

I sit, changed,

as I perform what those mysterious eyes and ears,

view,

hear,

because somehow,

the road of lights

and hands

and my instrument

and the symphony

awake those unquantifyable souls,

make them malleable,

and transform them.

And my soul,

too,

transforms,

as I feel each auidence member being reached.

And I get to sit here,

in this chair,

all over again tomorrow night.