Just leafing through photos on a lazy winter evening. I took this one at the Metropolitan Opera in December, when Adella and I saw Philip Glass's opera Akhnaten . The crystal chandeliers in the lobby took our breath away before we could glimpse the incredibly elegant performance of Glass's masterpiece, which he wrote in 1984. The chandeliers were a gift from Austria "as a symbol of the gratitude which her people wish to express for the generous aid they received from the United States during the trying years after World War II."
Showing posts from January, 2020
- Other Apps
- Other Apps
Echo had the last word And it was your word She said, “Caress me,” After you said death would be better Than that she should caress you. She loved you, but you had your thing Even after all that “avoid me not.” You, child of the ever-moving river, kept on, While she, child of the mountain, Grieved in her cave. Such was her love, Such was your beauty. She got it. You did not. You moved on. She stuck around, and Pan taught her His songs, Freeing her From Hera’s curse of voicelessness. You can’t always know who will deliver you. But you can know better than to resist When deliverance comes. You came to love yourself, And that was great, But you never quite kicked open your doors To the fullness of love. But Echo waited. Despite you, she sang your song. Through her, You outlive death. To those wonders about you that you never named She gave voice That your love might go beyond yourself. This is everything. Call it love.