Art for Arts Sake

 
 

It was upon the rondo

The composer believed

Seeing it as it was made so

But it was within it more truly

Beginning in the secret spirals of his paper world

He laid on the million drummed chamber

clustered and voiced around the fire

we warmed our hearts and bodies

agitated the waters of his mind

Until a shape there formed

Swelling and subsiding

It came again and over turning

Until there was naught another other

Save the circles in his moving hands

Floating upon the cushioned resonant air

Such destruction in its caress

violence and ecstasy

we learned to see the world

in the glimpses of our dying