Balzac, Zola, and Baudelaire look on
The scene not so vast it can’t be too grand
A violin in its case plays a song
It travels from general to specific
From language to thought back on to language
Multiple so the vein of a rubric
Parallels for each note of opinion
Higher than ever expected to cry
Tears full of melody answer the words
Beneath the parchment blue ocean and sky
The music of sound rhythm of the world
Singing of its soul to eternity
Under and between until it has freed
What it is, what it was, what it bleed.
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