Nameless Graces

My Dear Theophilus
(this can be our secret –
a game or puzzle)

Words fail me.

Which is,
of course,
where you begin

How can I not “wax poetic”
when dispassionate prattle fails to ignite
the flame of a candle worth holding?
Still, I pray it is only the finest kind of waxing
and that my words do justice to
Your Music

six hundred twenty-six
Köchels in the catalogue

eighty-eight
Keys on the keyboard

twenty-three
Concertos for piano

feeble attempts to enumerate the innumerable
calculate the incalculable
valuate the invaluable

dreiundzwanzig
Klavierkonzerte

achtundachtzig
Auf der Klaviertastatur

sechshundertsechsundzwanzig
Köchels im Katalog

Even German cannot make
Music
of numbers

mir fehlen die Worte.

Which is,
of course,
where you begin.

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