By John Delonas
After so short a time then,
Is it now all over?
That I who entered the concert and sat
Among all that crowd should be singled out
To make room for another.
For others listening to that chairless organ
Were beckoned and left weeping,
Turning back at the door and wringing their hands,
Only to be shut outside.
And now that eerie chord that has become part
Is shattered at your touch,
And the music fades to me
While others grow ever more rapt,
Leaning forward unconscious of my passing.
Are these the doors that I must enter?
And with their closing what a beauteous song
So do not deny me the last look
That measures my frailty to know,
Though others follow close behind.
I have just now caught a sound-- a sound
Of warmth and chill which must do me
For the journey,
For I hear beyond these doors
Strange voices in the long grey hall.