Why do I live?
Because of the rings around Saturn.
Because the Welsh must sing.
Because of Fragonard and
the lady perpetually on a swing.
Because Mozart, existed I exist;
he is the color of violets in the spring.
Live because of the eternal
nature of the sweet ring
of familiarity. I know you darling
angel light unashamed—bring
your joy to crack and melt
the dusty veil I held thin
around my soul. Mozart changed
the world and now I must sing.
How can I do otherwise honestly?
Through trials, journeys, despair, war
little birds and Mozart still sing
and I hear them better than before.
Linda Suddarth
Please Discuss.
Monday, November 16, 2009
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