When Players Know Their Instruments So Well Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

When players
know their instruments so well
that thought is act
and both of them are one
or when impassioned poets
in a spell hear chanting faster
than a pen can run
or when an artist
in a vision's trance
knows where and
when and how
to yield accord
or when an actor,
learned in voice and stance,
can be beside himself
in spirits stored
or when a dancer
whirling past all pain
can feel the sense
of weightless,
formless flight
or when beyond thought
one can yet retain
the order of a sport
or test or rite,
it's then that one draws
pleasure out of strife,
one moment's taste of
lost immortal life.