Mixing Suchness
It's late evening and the room is dark
We pull up our chairs and sit close,
my arm through your arm,
like we were in a theater or at the show
Watching the sound waves as they pass would be too distracting
so we turn off the lights
and look together into the glassy black
You have taken days, but the mix is good
balanced left and right
shimmering without hiss
balanced low and high
and the warm human voices come up like a blanket underneath
A ghost of blue light tries to get our attention
as alerts and warnings always do
but we stay with the sound
We are still and listen
The first one ends in bird song
The second one ends with the cymbals' decay and dying away
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