Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Climb until the contours of your hands show darker than ocean waves
And crash
Crash down
Upon your mistakes
And illnesses.

Wrinkles have come too early for your age
And veins and tendons are far too noticeable
My lovely composer of late---
How your music brings tears to my eyes
When the candle wax falls upon wooden floor
And is considered
Absolutely
Normal…

What sort of madness must have reigned
Inside your mind
To produce such magnificent
Feathered
Sound…?
I can only imagine… and keep climbing,
Climbing,
Climbing…





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