worship in
the rhythm of word-ish sounds
partial understanding and
partial consciousness
the heat is low
the flame just twitching
far-fetched jest of some roaring blaze
some ancestral fire to mildly represent
some greatness, subdued
fingers lift from violin strings
tuneless hum of aluminum pulled taut
the sound of it conjures up an image
a feeling
the show's about to begin
something's about to start
a greatness is about to
be
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