Maboroshi

He leapt up onto the stage amidst glittering supernovas, greeted his mates nonchalantly as if not on stage in front of thousands, caught the thrown mic without but a glance, and then turned to us. “あなたはこれを翻訳していませんでした、”, His speech dazzled and perplexed us as much as the pyrotechnics. Was he welcoming us? Trying to pump us up in his own foreign way? Before I could gather my thoughts, “良い仕事 “, his enchanting, rolling voice continued. A smirk graced his features. Then, a snap of black hair, and without warning, sound erupted around us. Guitars screamed – finally free, the bass’ pounded methodically – a rock to hold onto in the chaos, I felt the drums echo through me.  As an earsplitting roar of approval arose all around and pillars of golden fire, phoenix tails, silhouetted those on stage, I realized my ruminations would never matter. Their music spoke more then enough for them.

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