The bleak lights penetrate the soul of an empty club
The sound check looms eerily in the smog through an over used Sub
The base growls its low tones, the guitar pierces the light
The tune begins abruptly causing the onlooker a fright
The drums entrance the listener as the singer begins to croon
The promise of what is to come infiltrates their minds like cotton in a loom
The audience silences and awaits with anticipation and baited breath
The gig commences, cascading into an enigma of calm and intoxicates by stealth
It touches, caresses, transcends the people who have paid to listen
Beads of perspiration and the light of joy within the eyes of the performers glistens
Is this what it feels like and is perceived to have made it?
The band can only wish and pray to realise this actually and sustain it!
Debbie Razey 2014