The Symphony Hall Of The Senses Poem by Denis Mair

--- 'People are in constant movement inside alleys and popular markets. Movement mixes witth sounds and colors to form a symphony.' (Abdelhaq Djellab)
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Scenes of the marketplace usher me into the Symphony Hall of the sensorium;

I realize this symphonic display of sensation is a fabulous invention, a hard-won achievement and a priceless treasure.

It is more hi-tech than any hi-tech thing we can think of.

Maybe because we realize what a special endowment it is, we try to be worthy of it, and that makes us insatiably curious.

We're always wanting to see the ever-changing combinations it seamlessly coordinates.

Maybe we're intrigued by the new ways it notices things, the playful way it combines things;

and it tends to elaborate itself, or we become the elaborators.

We reflect on it and transform its scenes into fanciful tellings and presentations.

What we were excited about soon becomes something we must fuss over.

We are not trying to be self-referential, but it surprises us. We are not trying to be self-centered, but we can't help being entertained by its processes.

Having been cast in the role of its elaborators, we find that it is elaborating us. We become doorkeepers at the theater of its elaboration.

At any moment it may expand to being a theater of ideas. What are we supposed to do with the surprise it brings?

I think an artist is someone who accepts the mantle of being an usher into the expanded theater of the sensorium.

He fully takes on the role of being its possessor (and/or its agent) ,

and he keeps trying to make something or do something with it, so that its surprise can be lifelong.