And the Lord God said “LET THERE BE BLUE” and there was blue.
Then the Lord God breathed out a cerulean hue. It circled and
Drifted on a curl of a sustained note from the cello. It
Rested on a primordial stream of crystal air.
The musician becomes one with the
Instrument and bows to the creation
De las palabras musicas.
The French horn is presented softly as though
On a pillow . A keyboard sighs and adds
Itself to the conversation. The heart Of the composition comes forward with a ponderous beating The song is flung into space as stars of other worlds; their dust over-reaching and echoing between trombone and horn . The threads
are woven. The act is complete. All that is false drops away and I can
see the spangled indigo in the genesis of beauty and truth.