A seer has tasted of the world’s delights.
incidental poem to Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. III: I. Allegro
by Lynn Michael Martin
Sing of what is and has been,
and can sing and cannot sing,
and in my age, I will tell you
that singing is being,
that the world is polyphony
and confusion intertwined,
and joy beyond the world,
song-singing and gift-giving,
drawing threads of tale
from folk-fires and grandfathers,
seers who have seen the earth on both sides.
The fire has turned into weeping,
of river-tears and soft silences,
fraught with sleepiness, not frailty.
Why— is there no serenity,
no fire in silence or laughter in the darkness?
All the world has spoken to me,
and I share to you my song-taught wisdom,
of worlds which I do not call love
lest you mistake them—
they are
an austerity brought close,
a closeness objectified,
beauty in ashes,
a half-remembered touch
by one you have forgotten.
These tears are not those of grief,
but of the worldishness of things,
and I see all that can be seen,
with my given sight,
which distills in beads
on a cup of wisdom.
About this poem:
This poem is part of a series written in conjunction with pieces of music, in an attempt to put into words an encounter with something wordless.
Lynn Martin loves stories and epiphanies, and believes that good poetry expresses humanity’s deepest longings.