[NYCSPITZ]

Mozart, Chopin, Bach, he's sick with the keys
Piano playin' mask faced Argentinian teen
Masterpieces serene - it's like his thoughts are nebulous things
Nature's youthful call, Nature: wizened senescent king.
He's free here. Complete...human when these sentiments ring
over chinchillas, trees...and the ravine's tendrinous strings
"Music's your destiny," a mother cold, venemous sings
the bluff's height, Nature's clarity humming tenderest hymns.
Twenty-five minutes before: looking up, at time immemorial's call
soul a thunderstorm...given to sub-equatorial Fall
Seven hours before: a story of gall - cuts chalked up to ponderous slips
fingers calloused; his true joy came from conquering cliffs
It was the only way he knew to quell the monster within.
"Diego. Whenever you climb it's...godless, a sin
Deceiving, skeletal smile: "Music is a talent you couldn't possibly dim
...but you're grounded until the recital,
considering the audience, disobedience is improbably slim."
"Cool! That's rather retarded and sleight though
there's better out there than the London Philharmonica's Maestro."
Six hours before: Blood pools at the foot of the spiraling steps
decision making apparatus stoned, myelin bereft
Spontaneity spawns inspiration, the sight of his chest-
breath controlled, breaking cages abrupt; plight of the best.
Pangloss philosophy! Freedom...a flight from the nest.
Seven years before: a radiant smile. So sultry and light as the Sun
"Baby, when daddy's all better, and his bed appointment is done,
you'll grow to your highest dream: what you'd like to become."
The raincloud beckons: "One is all, all is one" - an epiphany bright
as the first drops fell, he's peaceful; awed by the reckoning's light
he slides down and leans forward - the final rushing symphony of his life.






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