From up on stage the band catches their breath
Respirating the halycon adoration of an aging crowd
From their elevated pulpit they see all our faces
The same faces they see in every city
The faces that bought these tickets to recapture the past
Thrusting cameras at the band hoping to cage this one
A cyborg Chex-Mix of big eyes and tiny lenses
The Buddha-smile below the trucker hat behind the mic
Contemplates his foolish fans
If he resents them he doesn’t show it
Instead he calls for silence
Holding the attention and the breath of the world
He offers his prayer for the world
You already own this moment stop trying to own this moment
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Halcyon Days”)
Life Immense 