On the grassy knoll, the people gather. United in common purpose, they laugh, dance, and sing along, off-key. Their tickets are checked before they enter, but once inside, they are part of the chosen. United in common purpose, they sit, stand, and settle in to watch something magnificent. The performers take the stage- the first of them. The night does not begin with the promised singers, their voices and words renowned across the land. It begins with the newcomers, screaming into an uncaring night, into blank faces with their ears waiting on their promised reward. United in common purpose, the audience listens- they are drawn in, distracted from the revel by the unexpected beauty of something unexpected- but they are united in common purpose. The bards take the stage, one at a time. They shout their names, their dreams, their stories at the gathering of humanity. The hill absorbs their sound, the receptive earth accepting this violence against the soil. United in a common purpose, the haggard listeners sing along, and along, and along. The performance carries on, the players of the parts changing places until the band is unrecognizable. In concert, united in a common purpose, everybody enjoys the music.
