[size=-1]2 parallel poems watched while listening to Bach - Passacaglia and Fugue in C Minor [size=-2][/size] Listen to these dark forebodings of Bach fugues in minor keys Huddled under blankets watching gray glass dancers Waltz inside the House of Usher Turn up the bass to feel resonant frequencies fill your solar plexus Climbing spiral staircases only to descend In some Escher imagined world Spin on a balcony coated in ice Peer down into the vast expanse This whole place is an organ pipe Measured out precisely for timbre You are standing inside an architectural instrument The stone-clad dancers below have not stopped swaying The clouds rip across the sky in time lapsed fashion Like some giant flag unfurling in the strong winds Feel the harmonious laws of music resolve for an instant And bring forth a new golden age Shinning in the sunlight coming down the shaft As the earth rises up again to support these structures That climb like pointed gables Church spires pointing the way to the heavens like rigid fingers A man would need wings to hope to touch anything this graceful And the final accord shakes the very foundations And you vibrate in sympathy Lucifer himself couldn’t invoke such sadness Only the immortals could know the depths of this melancholy A preemptive funeral dirge for all the living Playing out their futilities until death Enter grim resignation He grasps the hilt of noble intent And dons the robes of purposeful existence A throne is brought forth And set astride the granite hearth As dark vines clamber over all Shrouding the altar in growing decay A single thorny tendril Creeps out of the gray-browns in green And struggles to burst forth a bud A rose opens A flash of perfect red Resting in stillness after the arduous birth It rotates reaching upwards Craning around to discover which way to trope Tenderly touching each shadow Advance and retreat Played out into infinity Until petals begin to fall Drifting earthwards Reflecting in a puddle for a moment As the world mourns the end days of color And grieves for the lost tones Time passes Stars spin Moons streak across the sky Moths rule the night The whiteness of purity circling in the open air The last winter witnesses to what once was As the throne crumbles And the dried bloom turns to dust They cavort in joy They crave no sun And yet a spot of brilliant red Alights on the horizon A tongue of flame among the underbrush A promise to raze all the old encumbrances of demise To clear the land of regret The clouds all weep in wonder And snuff out the final hope And all that remains is a wisp of smoke Suspended in the humid air And mother earth moans At aloof heaven’s callousness[/size]
