Expansive Poetry & Music Online Page Two   
To the Memory of Frederick Hart
 by Arthur Mortensen

Relentless, tidal, careless, accident,
the slowly spreading river of a flood,
it comes for us, and doesn't knock, but pushes
aside all doors.  The artist with her brush,
the architect, the poet with his pen,
the orchestra's composer with an ear,
the sculptor through the stone itself might last
beyond this moment, years enough they hope
to spread the dream from dust that's left from them
to some small child, whistling in the night
beside a graveyard, hoping that their thoughts
will share a space above the earth with him.
From your "Creation's" marble such small eyes
may widen, knowing then that Beauty lives.

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