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It was dark, on that first day

I switched on the lights, wished it was all just a dream.
I wanted to leave the dark behind, wipe away every shadow.

Spotlights, I thought.
I’ll drench myself in light and never even see the shadows, never even notice
the dark.

I waited for the shadows to go.
I waited long.

I made me a waiting place.
Set up the lights.
In the corner of the living room.
The light washed my face.

From my waiting place I called out and I listened.
Waited to hear back.

Can you hear me? Can you see me?

I waited.

I doubted,

Who am I, if I can’t see the light.
Who am I, if I can’t sing.
Who am I, when my instrument is quiet.

So I sang a lament for the world.
Played an elegy.
Told a story about the missing light.

And in that moment I heard you. Your story was about the shadows too.

We wished for better notes,
more articulation markings, advice on dynamics, strategies for interpreting the light and the shadow.

We waited

For the power chord to resonate, to fill the space.
For a drum fill to release the tension.
For perfect harmonies with a dissonant edge.

We waited

For a stage on which
To live
To work

To create beauty, to make moments that matter
To share them.
To bring light.

Light to dance barefoot in
As the music lifts you
In the open air
By the glow of a festival
The light that you bow to the back row to reach.

D.S. al coda.

The light and the shadow intertwine, they know what they’re doing
I grab all the lights I can.

Without one there cannot be the other
I whisper into the in-ear monitor, in my very own orchestra pit.

We make the mood, we tell the stories,
We channel the emotions.

We’re not alone, even when we stand in the shadows.

As I switch on the lights,

I want to say to you,
Let life sing, let the light sound.

Anna Dantchev