The lights come up on
A musician’s stage.
Fog rolling slowly across
The ground. Eluding to the
Massacre to come.
A lone flute drones a
Haunting note.
The dawn is rising.
She begins to taper off,
And just before the silence
Engulfs her the rest of
The band filter in.
The bustle of a new
Day is unfolding.
Strings flow softly up
And down chromatically.
People stepping into
Elevators, carried to
Many identical office
Floors.
Trumpets blare obnoxiously
Over the others.
Traffic becomes thick
As more of the world
Awakes.
The baritones and tubas
Converse musically with
One another.
Groggy people walking along
The road.
Clarinets frantically rush
Through sextuplets.
Workers run along the ascending
Stairs, chattering to themselves.
A cluster of oboes rise above
The swell in a piercing note.
The sun is now at its highest.
Melodic lines become more
Frantic, leading into the
Inevitable. One Contra
Bassoon speaks out, low and
Menacing.
A few men drive the controls
Of religious madness.
Saxophones trill out
Dramatically.
Innocent people taken along
For a deathly ride.
There is one measure of
Silence; then the horrifying
Clash of cymbals.
Flames leap up to fill the
Newly opened hole.
The Orchestra screams out
In a final forte then, one
By one, die loudly away into
Nothing.
People stand at the edge
Of sanity, and leap into
The void of fear and pain.
Glissandos, marcattos, crescendos,
Staccatos; all being choked at
Their highest point.
Survivors watch as the
Structure slowly falls.
Half the band is lost; the
Remnants crying out in a
Closing pianissimo.
Cries for loved ones lost
Can be heard throughout
A shaken nation. Smoke
Is rolling thick; mixing
With the afternoon fog.
Lights, slowly, fade to black.
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