In the beginning was the stage, unfurnished, unadorned-empty.
Then there were clouds of magnificent turbulence, seething, spreading.
Then there was an audience of one, waiting, loathing, despairing.
But there came no act, or actor.
The play wasn't a thing of wonder, but rather an empty space.
Nothing of consequence happened.
Silence and storm reigned supreme.
We were waiting for....
us to emerge
Writing by Regina Stemberger