The man with the guitar
walked on like a star.
Alone.
Centre stage.
Turned the page in his songbook
and shone.
Under the spotlight.
He took flight.
Sparkled bright
through the night.
Had the crowd in his hand.
Squeezed it tight.
Needed no band.
To reach the heights.
The inspiration had led him to.
Sang the songs.
That soared through him
so strong.
Through divine intervention
he conveyed his intention.
Circumvention
of mind, body and soul.
The performance was whole.
Took the applause
like a stroll
on a quiet summers day.
Left the scene
to kneal and pray.
To thank his maker,
prove he was no faker.
Took his pay and his bags.
Now dressed in simple rags
of golden threads.
Left the audience torn to shreds.
Moved on to the next location.
To give birth to a new creation.
A one man music innovation.
thejrpc 