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."
~
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