listening to Mozart

we visit and re-visit ourselves,

discovering over and over what

we would have changed

if we could then

 

counting again and again the number

of times we've convinced ourselves

that change is future

not past,

 

wondering what Mozart would

have done had he finished,

instead of dying so young,

with more ahead of him than behind

i have to read this poem to myself over and over again before i can believe why i wrote it in the first place.  long drives home are usually the worst.  reflecting on past and future, pensive thoughts on whatever "life" is, kicking myself, self-pity, you know how it goes . . . and the one thing i always come back to is Mozart.  i'm not entirely sure why.  i'm pretty sure i should always be coming back to Christ, thoughtfully praying to One who saved me from myself--but often times i don't.  it's Mozart.  

boy genius.  prodigy.  pinnacle of musical excellence.  the "it" man of his day.  yet burdened and overcome by fear. i have heard it said of him that he exited a rehearsal session for his "Requiem" in tears, gripped by sorrow and never returned.  it was his last rehearsal for the piece he never finished, ironically, because of his early death.  some have also said that although commissioned to compose it for the late wife of a wealthy man, Mozart was actually writing his requiem.  his own death march.  his own ode to the dark.  looking death in the face must be scary for some, especially when there is the unexpected coming.  and, in Mozart's case, a past of sin.  perhaps more sin than he could bear.  the piece for the rehearsal he did not make it through was reportedly the Lacrimosa or "tears" or "mourning."   the lyrics read like this:

Lacrimosa dies illa That day of tears and mourning

qua resurget ex favilla when from the ashes shall rise

judicandus homo reus. all humanity to be judged.

Huic ergo parce, Deus Spare us by your mercy, Lord,

pie Jesu Domine, gentle Lord Jesus,

dona eis requiem, Amen. grant them eternal rest, Amen.

"when from the ashes shall rise all humanity to be judged . . . Spare us by your mercy, Lord, gentle Lord Jesus"---and he ran from the room, weeping.  

what i've seen

true or not it should still hit home in our hearts.  Mozart was an unrested soul in that moment, much like i was a little over two years ago.  getting ready for bed on a thursday night, i was convinced that i wasn't going to wake up.  i had somehow convinced myself that God was going to take my life before morning light came.  i fell asleep to Mozart's requiem playing in the darkness.  i was in no way at peace, but resigned to the fact that eternal sleep was better than the pain and guilt i was living through.  obviously, i woke up.  morbid night? no doubt.  i was messed up in the head and heart a long time before that but that morning was new for me.  nothing was "all better," all the pain was still there, all the heartache . . . my entire life that had hit the fan and was now painting the world around me in shades of black and gray.  mozart didn't get another morning . . . but i did, and the difference between me and Mozart is that i had the grace of another day to seek the Giver of mercy.  i didn't, and don't, need to wait until the "rising of the ashes" to hopefully plead for mercy from the Lord.  i have been given grace enough to rest NOW in the mercy that is found at the cross.  i can see forward into the hope of eternal salvation by way of that same cross and can embrace each and every dark moment which comes my way because my Savior, too, has embraced those same dark moments, promising that God works for good with those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose.

sometimes it just takes me a while to get back there . . . but He always brings me back there.  it's the only place i'm safe.  it's the only place we have peace . . .