Maestro

Finally, your day has come
Your blood, sweat, and tears will be showcased for all to see
Will they applaud when it's over?
Sitting in the back, behind the scarlet curtains,
You wait for your moment
Your foot has a uneasy beat of its own,
Tapping away frantically as you hunch in a fragile, wooden chair

Your introduction booms across the floor
Butterflies eat away at your lungs while you rake your brains, trying to remember how to breathe

Regardless, it's time to walk out onto that vast stage
One small, black and white dot stumbling through a sea of wood
Stand tall, Maestro
One foot in front of the other, don't crawl
They're waiting for you

They want to hear your work
They want to judge it, feel it,
Make it their own
They want to record it, applaud it,
Critique it in the paper
Are you ready Maestro?

Tap, tap, tap,
The baton echoes as it hits the stand
The walls slowly move in,
Everyone leans closer and closer,
Waiting.
Staring.

You raise your baton
Your trained army of musicians elevate their rifle like instruments,
They wait for your cue,
Ready to blow the audience away

Take a deep breath, Maestro,
It's time.