Poems ✍️

A man saw the whole world as a grinning skull and cross-bones. The rose flesh of
life shriveled from all faces. Nothing counts. Everything is a fake. Dust to dust
and ashes to ashes and then an old darkness and a useless silence. So he saw it
all. Then he went to a Mischa Elman concert. Two hours waves of sound beat on
his eardrums. Music washed something or other inside him. Music broke down
and rebuilt something or other in his head and heart. He joined in five encores
for the young Russian Jew with the fiddle. When he got outside his heels hit the
sidewalk a new way. He was the same man in the same world as before. Only
there was a singing fire and a climb of roses everlastingly over the world he
looked on.