Creatio ex nihilo

Adagio

merely a tempo

prescribing a pace
for this
middle
movement

which, of course, says only
the tiniest bit.

so the composer speaks

an altogether
different
language

a lone voice
asking its questions
innocently,
plaintively,
into the void.

and the void
answers.

ex nihilo

petite, percussive plucking
above,
below,
and
in the midst
of long pulls and pushes of
horse-hair bows
across vibrating strings.

sustained
excruciating
stretches

kneading
what
needs
to be
kneaded
and needed.

extending gently

and not so gently;

evoking that familiar
– but not unwelcome –
ache

that surfaces,
then dives

climbs
and descends

up to the vellus hair
on the underside
of an ear lobe

baby fuzz
that refused to go away.

down to the deepest
recesses of the
undefined spaces
between the cells
which join
to build

and Create.

Life.

synchronous
pain and pleasure

impossibly occupying
the
same
space

the almost, but not yet;
the yesterday which never was

but also the one which was
and will be
oh
so
good.

luxuriate and persevere in today,
which is all of these
and more

but less as well.

Adagio

the marking tells you little.

so listen.

Hear.

Feel.

Everywhere.

S L O W L Y.


This poem is a meditation on what I believe is one of the most perfect 6-8 minutes of music (depending on YOUR adagio…) ever written: the second movement of Mozart’s Piano Concerto #23 in A Major, KV 488.

I don’t like the title I settled on. Something better may come later. Or feel free to offer suggestions.

But only if you listen as you read…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s