"I gather that sitting down is all that is necessary for producing masterpieces." –Lord Peter Wimsey in "Strong Poison" by Dorothy L. Sayers
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
To A Musician. A Poem
On Not Facing Reality – As Usual
What then, if I should do this foolish thing And leap into the gulf between gray earth And all my yet unwrit eternity, And what if plea of yearning spanless dearth Of music pulls me unsupported on, Preferring dissonance, some sound absurd, Uncertain harmonies to dull accord, To dry-cut unisons, too often heard?
What if I brace and step into the mist To grasp a ghost unknown outside a dream, And wide-eyed, bring a figure vaguely-drawn To phantom view, and paint what it would seem Aside from any cool reality? And feel and touch what only in my mind Has flesh and bone and solidness of light And take to heart a thing of unsure line?
Oh God! what then? Could I not fail to fall Into abyss sans dream, sans light, sans sound, And would my folly be the only line To noose me up, a slipped and tightened crown?
Or would I, credulous, go forth to live These imaged lines, all treachery above, Called forth from void to firm reality And Heaven save the mark! find you to love?