Behind the curtain of an old theater,
Everyone stands ready, nothing neater.
Rehearsals done, the night has come,
The grand performance now begun.
Amidst the shadows, everything aligns with care:
Pins pulled from costumes, here and there.
Makeup artists wave their brushes light,
Mystical powders, soft and bright.
Prompters hiding under trapdoors tight,
On guard for surprises that might take flight.
Stagehands swap the scenes in play,
As curtains sweep the light away,
The hidden world that few perceive,
Exists for what the stage will weave.
Actors, extras, all in line,
Under the leader’s guiding sign.
Each one in their own assigned caste,
A functional trinity made to last.
They know their lines, they know their part,
With one vocation close to heart:
To let the spectacle
Live and gleam.
I can feel the magic of the theatre in this, Aaron! Beautiful!