Bach’s Swan

By Graham Hill © 11.28.18

(Photos by Graham Hill)

I don’t know much
About music,
But in this moment,
As I traveled,
On a train home,
I felt a bit off-course
Of my daughter,
Arden struggle,
I know,
Bach spoke to me.

Headphones on,
Eyes closed,
Enveloped in,
A blended-concerto
Of my tapping
Fingers and toes,
And rolling-tumbling,
I begin to fall
And become
Gathered in,
The wholesome embrace
Of this all-encompassing,

It unveiled the clear
Feeling of a swan,
Swimming along
The full length-canal,
Of my earth-bound body
To a mountaintop lake,
Of grace-unseen.
Glistening sparkled white
Bach’s swan
Proceeds further.
Making gentle,
Circling-dignified kicks
To thread and stay afloat
Above all
In a pool airborne

She now swims
In a sky of light-water
On an elevated temple
In holy-space.
The sight of the exquisite
Gently sloping hooked-curve
Of her neck consumes me;
I feel this as the straight
And upright-humility,
I need.
She becomes
A pointing-example,
That I want to follow.

I choose to stretch,
And merge,
Right into,
The elegant shape
Of Bach’s swan.
I become her pure-white
Unfolded winged-crescents,
Of creation.
These perfectly-tailored
Gifts of divinity,
Are her loving arms
A welcome-inn of understanding
Where all waves
Of what is
In my life,
Are now understood.

Bach’s swan
Grows with blooming,
Facing head on
She looks right through
My soul-eye,
From a dark polished
Picture frame background.
I feel now a full-living part
Of her attractive gazing-head
And graceful body.

Then together
We dissolve and dissolve.
Feature by feature,
Slowly and peacefully
Into a smooth
Releasing flow,
A weave of soft wavelets,
Of purple-ether,
And blue-mist;
Surrounded with the softness
Of delicate lace.

All but
Her quiet-calm-softness
Has now gone.
The music has made
Me and her
A fusion of guiding light.
Spiritual truth
The matter of the music
And my apparition
Of my daughters struggle,
And of separateness
Doesn’t matter anymore.
We are all bridged
Into one another
In mutual reverent love.
I now feel royal without
The blind importance,
I inspire all
The blues and purples
Of her restful-remnants.

A simple breathing rythmn
Now remains,
As I travel.
A total breath,
A single piano key-tone,
To fill all life’s encounters.
With the graceful-gleaming bliss-kiss,
Of Bach’s Swan.
Nothing really matters now
For I am this feeling
This presence.

What’s left
Father-Mother God
Holy Spirit
Thank you for playing
On Bach’s piano
And bringing me his swan.
I can feel
My I am presence in all.
Music my perfect
Once-again reminder
That I am and we all are,
Heaven’s ever-present song
In all ways, all along.

Graham Hill