THE WORLD IS AN ORCHESTRA

The WORLD is an orchestra.
Gifting you gracefully

Mozart, Beethoven, and Bach

all relish and gusto

to critical acclaim

under the masterly baton of
the Conductor who, by the way

also spins the galaxies as if

juggling apples at leisure

entire starry clusters and voids, too

yet whose brow sweats out life crimson

as if caught in a winepress  
until he finally plays Stravinsky

all spasms and rhythms of dread

a frenzied dance of crescendos and

somersaulting decrescendos

out of control through and through
Then, at last

He is all serenely quiet

blissfully still

like an infant in a cradle,
As its mother sings a lullaby of the Firebird,
Of love unquenched,
Of love eternal.