Looking into an empty room
I like seeing instruments just sitting there
And wonder about the possibilities
that can be put into the air
I too, like looking at still-photographs
of an artist just sitting
I know she's thinking of what the future's going to be bringing
And what about the moment of silence
before one starts singing
That moment of conception or creation
Put a pen to pad
And whatever's jotted is foreverlasting
Can leave us crying, balling
tears running
or laughing
Not thinking about it
But the next moment could be crashing
Things aren't in the process of
Or we don't notice the process, "stopping"
Things just.