Oh to be that 1 for whom She always plays
To feel the doting grip of Her arresting gaze
Ah to be bewitched by Her phantasmal light
& have your senses sing with staggering delight
When she hits Crescendo heart begins to roar
While her Accelerando lets mind and spirit soar
& when Her fingers dance in near-euphoric daze
Oh to be the 1 to watch Her lovely face
Her treasured protégés beneath her music lie
The highest of the best now sleep where roses cry
Their fervent souls still smolder in shells of bony pores
& give undying breath to Her immortal scores
She lives in every man whose music makes you weep
In tunes that ring in ears at night when you can’t sleep
She dwells in each piano key & every cello string
She’s both the hum of winter & chimes of early spring
I’d only seen her once, the Muse in all her Glory
The 1 who walks beyond the words Memento Mori
I’d asked, “To be the Greatest, which mountain do I climb?”
“Of patience, child,” she’d told me. “The Greatest Art takes time."
