Not much comment needed on this poem. Just two. By juxtaposing the inspired, disciplined agony of the artist, with the creative suffering love of God, it revitalises theological imaginations smothered by the tedium of the overfamiliar. Ever since a friend read this at a Good Friday service years ago, I've never again been able to listen to solo violin music with previous innocence, or been able to separate the vision of a musician giving his all, from the God who does the same.
Secondly the copy you are reading was written by a man who attended that service, wrote out the poem and presented it to me. It is for me a literary Icon. Alistair first started doing calligraphy in an Asian POW camp, sharing accommodation with Laurens van der Post. Though he never spoke of those experiences, he knew more than a little about suffering, and that in human experience which makes "such music as lives still".
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