Wisdom From the Grave

Like most everyone, I meet at times a task that I regret--one that I with passion will embrace but soon must face instead my nagging lack of skill and fortitude. I sit. In self-indulgence meditate upon injustice dealt to souls such as I. I do not cry but do envision flashbacks of an insight that still dares invade the thinking contemplation brings. My questing spirit wanders to the East, stopping for the moment in Connecticut. There a teacher that I knew now sleeps beneath the ground within a spot at Stonington nearby the place where first he taught me of the art of building harpsichords; his spirit rises from that earth to greet me with reproof: "Have you forgotten what I wrote? It is so simple after all, and could be just for you: What man has done --man can do." ~