At the end of the parade, the costumes come off. The instruments are returned to their cases. Batons are put away. Horses are lead to the stables for hay. Clowns wipe off their make up. The floats are deconstructed or left to deteriorate at the hand of the elements. Time marches on, but not for the parade.
That blink of an eye that caused so much anticipation, preparation, a bit of anxiety, and copious excitement has come to a close. All the planning and hard work are spent. The joy and wonder that were created now begin the process of vaporizing into the ether. The parade takes up residence in fading memory as the next novel distraction begins to crystallize, sure to capture the imaginations of the willing.
Why go to all the effort to manifest something so fleeting? Perhaps it is because the act of creating an experience from nothing affords us a sense of meaning, even if only for the ephemeral moment. Because meaning, fashioned from nothingness, is the prize that we all feel impelled to create before the end of our parade.
One thought on “At the End of the Parade”
Art for the sake of art. My definition of civilization. Although I hate parades. Gettysburg has like nine of them every year, and my daughter, in the high school band needs to march in every one of the. Next year she graduates. I may never go to another parade again.
You must log in to post a comment.