heads bowed, stamping feet to hectic beats.
Hands out stretched in Ecstasy, raised voices and flaming passion.
Sunday morning congregation, here's the real meaning of religion.
The DJ leads the morning mass, choirs of sub-bass angels screaming their four hundred decibel message to the masses.
Holy icons hanging from hands, clutched to chests to further the experience.
Round, like communion wafers, bubbling on tongues. Dissolving, Drop at the drop.
Multicoloured wine, blood of the saviour. Fruit flavours and sweet nectar.
Welcome to the Rise. My church.
The lights flash and whirl, green and gold and sharp stark white and I see three hundred people all crammed together. Their hands are raised, their throats are hoarse from screaming their approval. The DJ throws his head back in laughter, chest inflated as his hand punches the air in time with the beat. He can see the crowd like one moving organic mass, responding to his every command. Suddenly the sound drops down, the leaping whirling stops and heavenly choirs fill the air, slowly the mass begins to sway in time to the music.
Then THUMP
The bass drops in again and the madness starts a fresh.
I feel so at home in this place, I love every person who passes through these doors. Are they having a good night? I hope so, my friends deserve that much this Sunday morning. Big smiles and laughing comments, we are like the Shepperd's guiding our wayward flock.
With the bass thumping in my chest, the choir filling my head and a drink in my hand I am at my happiest here, in this place.
;-)
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