We have known these songs together
We have shared their soaring sounds
They have held us tight
The dying fall
Of all beauty
Enraptured in the wizard’s net.
Here - all humanity expires
On a thread of sound
Saturated by a sense of peace and longing
Dark and deep
That holds us all
In the short ache of twilight.
The old composer
Weighed down by the legacy of his own survival
Gleans one last tear:
Word and sound are reconciled
Bathed in moonlight
Bound to the earth and its long breathing trill.
Born of a century’s terrible sadness
A women’s voice
Poised and golden
Rises above the ashes of destruction.
We listen to that final silence, to its eternity:
The forgiveness of beauty “ist nicht trivial”.
Gar Jones: July 2011/March 2017