This Old Guitar

The ritual of a concert can be a powerful
experience if the performer is wise enough
to tune the room to silence.

Why do we burn the candles
Why dim down the lights
And gather in the growing dark
Of this stormy night
The song is in the wind again
The rain is on the roof
I hold this old guitar to heart
Tonight it tunes itself

Now each song is the last one
Encores are a gift
Where expectation grinds us
Surprises are a lift
Don't be shouting titles out
Sweet mystery unfurl
Don't be watching kettles now
Let spirit come to boil

Some of you live up the road
Some live worlds away
We all come from the broken drum
That is the world today
So enter in this house tonight
What longing brings you here
To know that we more clearly see
When looking through a tear

So tune the room to quiet now
No one say a thing
Join hands with the silence now
Until it starts to sing
To listen is to tend a wound
To let the judgments go
Songs you've never heard begin
To sound like songs you know

That's why we burn the candles
Why we dim the lights
And gather in the growing dark
Of this stormy night
The song is in the wind again
The rain is on the roof
I hold this old guitar to heart
And every song is proof

DL