Poems with pictures

That final chorus
Of the first part 
Of St. Matthew's Passion 
On an old Richter recording 
Gets the choir fugue-ing 
Bemoaning my sins. 
Until uninvited, 
And out of nowhere, 
Boy trebles slice through it all, up there, 
Rawly, coarsely 
With a note that’s held 
"And that moment.." 
(Winningly) I contend  
" .. is your proof, indubitably, 
Of the existence of a God". 
It always gets a smile. 

But still, 
I'm not a believer 
In the need for a presence 
At live orchestral events. 
Until, that is, 
Witnessing up close 
(As a plodding bass 
Established a pulse) 
The Promm-ing Halle strings 
Waiting, impassive, empty, 
To embark, nobilmente, on the Big Tune 
Of Elgar's First. 
At the last recordable moment 
Collectively, bows raised, 
With one glimpse of infinity, 
They attacked that natural C, out of time. 
It flooded back, into themselves, 
And back again, beyond. 

More than they should have been, 
Sounds made flesh 
And foreverfile://localhost/Users/iainmitchell/Desktop/CreatedWebsitesbyIM/Iain'sOwnWebsite/Elgar%20full.iMovieProject/