Ode to a Quiet Moment

Everything is wild and confusing.
Hands are flailing in the air,
teeth snarling in joy,
and bodies are slamming
against each other in modern worship.

It is a raucous of colour -
purple, pink, blue, green,
a flash of red - and light -
sweeping over the crowd, blinding -
and emotion.

The whirlpool sucks
every thought into it, no time
for a breath, no time
for a pause;
just noise. And then...

the silence of the beat:
a thousand voices waiting
with bated breath as the ritual ends -
or maybe it hasn't ended? Maybe
this is a new climax?

When the music is silent,
that pause between the last drumbeat
and the cheering, the joy, the screaming.
Silence. Complete command of the crowd.
Complete command of the world, for a moment.

The whole world in silence,
breathing out, stuttering their movements to
notice the nothing. Thousands of minds in unison,
all thinking, all waiting.
All in a second.

Impermanence does not mean insignificance.
A second is worth more
than the thousand voices can say
because one second leads to
another new second

and to another and to another,
each second momentary and
each second individual. No second,
no drumbeat, no cheering voice,
will be like the last.
And even in their impermanence,
no second,
no drumbeat,
no cheering voice,
will be alone.