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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=459898" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Unity of Source</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">That’s what she called it; <br>surprised that, as musician, <br>knowing how a piece of music<br>sets out from, and finally returns to <br>some chosen ‘key’ based on a single note: <br>which remains in mind of the composer<br>and the listener alike; calling back, after<br>the great adventure, to your loving home; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">she, finding that poems, too, <br>maintain that sound, somewhere in mind – of<br>what the poem’s about; and whence it started; <br>which guides each word that’s chosen; <br>where it shall return to rest..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You hear this (even if you know<br>nothing about music..) in Mozart’s playful sounds: <br>as if each day, he packs a rucksack with a snack, <br>sets out for hills and mountains, clouds, <br>the tinkling streams, bird cries, goats clambering and<br>bleating; maybe hears a village band<br>practising down there below; smiles; <br>perhaps clouds gather; lightning flashes, <br>thunder rolls; for that is life..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">then, as the shadows of the evening mountains<br>begin to creep towards the city streets, <br>follows the streams that skip beside him down the hillside, <br>paths appearing now, by goats and men more worn; <br>knowing that, at the end, <br>his home will still be where it was<br>that morning after breakfast…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sometimes, when no-one’s listening but myself, <br>I sit at the piano, and play the ‘Mozart game’ –<br>strike a keynote chord; then close my eyes or turn away, <br>put a finger on an unknown note, <br>say, around two octaves above that; then<br>listen as a melody unfurls from inner ear; perhaps<br>an intermediate harmony assists; and<br>finally, return to that loved home; now refreshed, <br>shining-eyed; content; and needing only rest…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Unity of source..<br>you hear it now? <br>how much we know of this, <br>yet scarcely knew we knew..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">*<br>for Elizabeth</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Michael+Shepherd">Michael Shepherd</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=459898" data-title="Unity of Source de Michael Shepherd" data-description="That’s what she called it; 
surprised that, as musician, 
knowing how a piece of music
sets out from, and finally returns to 
some chosen ‘key’ based on a single note: 
which remains in mind of the composer
and the listener alike; calling ba..."></div>
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