04.02.08
Leitmotif
If my life were a song, what opus would it be? Would it be an aria of Verdi, a Broadway ditty, or a symphonic harmony? Could it be a Bach cantata, a Handel
Hallelujah, a Beatles stanza, a Celtic Coda, a Rachmaninov Sonata? Perhaps a nursery rhyme or an Indie tune of our time?
My life is an unfinished song, but it cannot quite conform to any era or
category, for I had my music, and You transpired and elevated it with
your own melody, deviating from every genre, euphony not of this earth,
and it remains despite the jumble of twelve-tone sonancy, recurring,
and recurring, in what seems to be an eternal fugue. It is an amaranthine song,
with You, being the leading motive.
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