It’s
all a fugue and everything

has
to come

again
and again through all the doors.

Look
out all the windows,

sleep
in all the beds,

hide
in the cellar and run out over and over

because
that is the nature of nature

the
minute you let it

turn
into the oldest music.

There
was no music before Bach

or
maybe Biber,

just
people being beautiful out loud

then
something happened

and
beauty lasted longer than itself