I am talking to you, all of you –
the precious spaces that encase us in art.
I celebrate your seats, your black dusty stages,
your regal curtains and simple scrims,
your lights that dim and dance before our eyes,
your cavernous silence and boundless sound.
You contain, and sustain life.
We sit in your lap and are dazzled,
confounded, elated, destroyed.
You let us explore the world within your walls.
You connect us within a moment.
You harbor us in joy and grief.
You are a respite, a sanctuary, a garden, a library,
a void to be endlessly replenished.
A vessel for discovery, reflection,
inspiration, and profundity.
A haven for the lost,
on stage and off.
You are history, you have seen it all
and still you fling your doors open for more.
Stark or palatial, black box or basement –
you are beautiful.
I cast myself as a ghost light, still and at the ready,
illuminated and at home in your embrace.
Thank you for being a place,
through the centuries,
for humanity to see itself.