Goodbye
Oh, heart of stone,
Does nothing touch you?
I am swept up to the heavens
By magnificent choral presentations.
And orchestral feasts.
When spread before you,
They fall upon your ears,
There to die a pitiable death
Held at bay by walls that surround you.
You observe it with a detachment
That I do not understand.
You seem to hear
But do not understand.
Does it not move you?
Are you so devoid of awe or wonder
That you cannot be enraptured
With the other-worldliness of it all?
You show no signs of being touched
By this halo of angels descended
For your earthly delight.
The subject is irrelevant,
Magnificat or country ballad.
The message that it carries
Is clear to me.
It is in the music, not the libretto.
I cannot help but bow my head
To praise the singers, not the subject,
To praise the composer’s genius.
The artistry, not the object of praise.
If you will not share these things
With me, or if you are not able,
I must say Goodbye.
Palimpsest 
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