Climbing Parnassus

 

 

Addressed to my Beethoven, for cries fall on deaf ears:

As I watch, you travel further into your reality. I understand,

Now-

my purpose.

You break upon me, without hesitation. For you are a theory in greatness. They excuse your habits, with calculated ease- because you dare to master the music. Jealousy is in itself a more potent beast when given to those who desire a piece of your soul.

It was this honesty which you held in snow globe fascination.

Now, I am but a papered muse.   

This is my gift, my curse, a warped description of love. 

But I know the truth,

I embody afterthoughts –to violin strings.

 In all actuality it is a laughable notion to literally live second fiddle. I know that I am a selfish creature, desirous and brooding. My failings however seem a compositional feast for your pleasure. Be that as it may, let me touch you without the need for cadenzas.  

I ask the impossible-of you who paves precedence. I did not choose to share you with the world, but I knew the risks. And now that fame no longer quiet gives you the keys, I am fraught not with pains of loss –my Utopia revealed. It is a greater fear that drives me on. 

For if I leave who will know you and not the music,

and stay the course for both your sakes? 

Reviews

[Zeitgeist Manifesto]

Wow. This is truly touching work. I could feel the emotions in this piece.
You have spoken through the soul of another. I feel as though I have witnessed
a Seance. There is an unbelievable spirit of sacrifice in this poem. Amazing.

[Legion]

What a pleasent surprise this was. Brilliantly done. Two hooves up and a round of applause. ;)

[Ed Hart]

I think Proust also was so finely tuned...