Portraits Of Stockhausen No.3 Poem by Daniel Brick

There is a villa at the edge
of a great city, an imperial city,
but it is an old world, weary
of displays of past glory...
People now seek simple pleasures,
paying a just price for their needs,
leaving them a little extra for their
pleasures. Most of them carry a slim book
on Ethics by the man who lives in that villa.
He lives among us, not apart. He told me once
he might be no more than the one who works
the hardest. No genius sweeps obstacles aside,
no privilege descends from above and eliminates
the need for effort. Like us, he takes one step
at a time, wary of his balance, before the next step.
You know him by the name Alessandro, his outsider's name,
we know him as Sebastian and neighbor. Of course,
you recognize him now. He writes those short reflective
pieces that many commit to memory. I do. I learn them
by heart. And a whole passage slips into my memory.
Is this all foolishness to you? No? We are happiest
when a great window opens and reveals the bounty
just beyond our grasp. And these reserves satisfy us.
We are content with what is here. And what is promised there.
It is as if we are breathing the same air in tandem.
And it is blessed....