The Conductor

The conductor stands before 

the orchestra and choir,

ready to guide their execution

of the repertoire etched in their minds.

Turned, facing them,

he holds the ability to give

feeling and emotion

with his face away from the audience

and the wave of the baton in his hand.

Left to wonder what the

beauty of music was about,

the audience watched as the conductor

caused rainstorms and earthquakes,

tornadoes and blizzards,

rainy days and sunny days,

and only the most blissful night

of full moons and shining stars. 

The conductor stands before

the whole auditorium,

and gives a new gift to the world;

the gift of empathy,

as he conducts the sights and sounds

of the world, for the world.

When the last note has been played,

he stands, frozen and relaxed,

speechless in the stillness.

Resting his arms and 

releasing the tension from his hand,

he knows he told the story well,

and he knows the musicians told the story well,

and he knows the audience listened.

-LJ

21 March 2017

(this is a "part 2" of sorts to a poem I wrote

last spring titled The Lone Composer.)