Attempting to marry the blur of
Black notes on paper in front of me to
The smooth ivory beneath my fingertips
Attempting to fuse notes, keys, and tempo
As it is written –
As it is meant to be played –
As it is meant to be heard –
Chaos, the sublime fusion
Intrinsic force that is madness –
Madness and the art within him,
Mozart – a haunting partnership –
Madness won, took over the man
Ferocious compositions, exquisite music
Led sadly, quickly into a pauper’s grave
Leaving behind collections of art –
Priceless and eternal
At my piano, my mind wanders, yet
I begin to play, attempting to commune with
The instrument, the music –
Halting, I linger over the notes, unfamiliar parts
Haunting sonata. Perplexed, I wonder…
What the hell was he thinking when he wrote this?
Why did he write in this manner?
Was he driven by a muse or some unknown ghost?
What inherent madness forced this frenetic pace?