Alive In The Spirit
Alive In the SpiritThey inch onward, slowly into an amber stream of hope
through curative waters which have taken up the mantle
of restorer/redemptor. These are life worn soldiers
of misfortune - the wounded, the disenchanted, the spent,
the damaged. Each have embraced life’s “WHAT IF”and
in their pain, with child-like abandon garner a sense of joy
with melodies tired ears alone can hear.
A masked woman, pale and gaunt, comes into view.
Right behind her a friend wields a small dolly, upon
which the slender oxygen tank is clamped.
Like some deep water diver, she determinately
pierces an otherwise hostile environment with relative
safety. A pear-shaped man with a distinctive limp makes
light of his impediment as he pulls ahead of a wildly grey
haired woman with duel walking canes.
By the busload they converge upon the arena
of light. Even in the lobby the music of the faithful permeates
the night. Elevated hopes speak of a belief, that to receive a touch
from the hand of fate could mean freedom which they’d never
known. Uniformed attendants wearing badges offer their help
to those finding their way into the random seating arrangement.
A joyful dance of light and sound pulses within the each molecule
of the air breathed. Each heart and mind focuses straight ahead
... watching ... waiting.
The cacophony of melodic yet collectively dissonant rhythms
continues, but now this one focal point has the attention of all
those around him. Quadruple double diamonds on a third run
sends the machine into a frenzy as the jackpot of the night
continues inventing new sounds to represent the rolling accumulation
of his winnings. This bespeckled, unshaven, diminutive looking man
in the dark grey blazer is no stranger. He’s won before but had never
quite found the salvation he’d been looking for. Which might account
for the rather subdued, in fact ... ungrateful response.
He finds that he will now have to keep at the game a little longer.
It’s a clear cut case of ...
“less means more.”
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