Acoustics Poem by Jan Schreiber

The harpsichord
releases sounds
of crystal line,
rapid decay.

They are like love
that fast surrounds
the astonished sense,
then falls away,

Unless the hands
that gave them voice
renew them in
another range,

So that the act
of willful choice
makes constancy
while moments change.

Thus when I loved you
yesterday,
that might have been
the end of it,

But you gave answer
to my play
and made sure I
would not forget.

Measure for measure,
love for love,
this instant's born
where that one dies.

We are bound to
the learning of
the unknown song
we improvise.