They’re standing in a room,
A room of memories,
A looking glass, a loving cup, pictures in need of frames;
The things they saved for their importance.
She sees him as he is,
He sees her as she was,
While in a room they’ve yet to see, tomorrow dances all alone,
To music, mute, but in their dreaming.
Like lovers everywhere,
Lost in hyperbole,
They think that they are all alone, that they’re the only ones
To whom this moment is occurring.
We see them in that room;
We think it all in vain.
She cannot help but see, he cannot turn away. They sacrifice
The things they saved for their protection.
Don’t worry they can’t hear you.
They are what we were once, and what we someday are to be:
Timeless souls in shallow graves, never once knowing.
Someday what we now see,
Will cry out to be framed.
Around some vague, enormous room together we will dance,
To music, mute, but in our sighing.
Don’t worry they can’t harm you.
They are what you have hid,
Buried in shallow graves.
They’re standing in a room.
The room is very still.
The light begins to fade.
The dance has just begun.
The room is spinning.
“Nothing meant to be can ever be denied,
Though in our hearts we’ve often tried.
Somewhere out beyond the fear our hearts contain
Motionless bits of dreams remain.”
“Good Night, my love, with whom I rest in all my dreams.
A vague, enormous room appears, and from all time,
And for all time,
/ Thom P.Miller
Soprano: Diane Penning
Alto: Kathy Proulx