Crescendo

Still church with smell of antiquity
Rays of sun piercing through colored panes
Illuminating miniscule particles of dust as they
Drift, weightless in the ether.
Forced quiet as people standing, shift weight from foot to foot.
Trying to remain silent, unmoved, immovable.

The stirring of the choir breaks the stillness.
Creaking wood and shuffled parchment,
Robes flowing as fabric swells with first breaths.
Anticipation as eyes unclosed watch, with eager ears.

Just as the wave does break upon the shore,
So does chord and measure break upon the room.
Building, flowing, rising.
Taking along all that wish to be... lifted... lightened... enlightened.
High into the lofty ceiling does harmony and verse fill, Until...
It seems... there is no room... for anything else.


Corey Allan Smith