Mysterium Benjamin T. Rossen The instructor said, Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you-- Then it will be true It may be true, but will it be complete? There is a full landscape to paint, a symphony of words to evolve from my thoughts. My life is a trail endlessly stretching forward, paved for a relay race of responsibilities. From studying to practicing the piano to completing a new composition to preparing for the next festival and the next competition – It’s about planning the next concert or the next collaboration. In fact, tonight, I won’t be writing a page. No, tonight, I’ll be writing three, even four pages! Some supplementary materials for college, perhaps some applications for a musical opportunity. It’s bliss! A full orchestra in my mind and in my hands; every instrument plays its rightful part. I work to the tune of Alexander Scriabin’s synesthetic symphony. He believed he could preach atop the Himalayas, and in effect, change the world. Maybe I can do something similar: through the timbres I produce, the words I write, and the number of accomplishments I garner, I could change the world. It’s all part of a larger plan — a matter of destiny! ...Then again, who am I kidding? I’m seventeen, not thirty-four. Sure, I can imagine the bliss of success, the magnanimous praises for my contributions to the world. Yet I know there is murk before me. I look up to the stars, but the sky is polluted by the industry of New York, the cosmopolitan steel jungle that silently watches me. As I look to my left and right, I see the polymaths, the geniuses, the jacks of all trades that put the word “trailblazer” in the dictionary. As I look down, I see nothing. For a second, I doubt my life goals. But then I look forward. Straight forward. I picture my landscape as I process three dimensions. My symphonic composition creeps into my mind like an earworm, waiting to be written down. I hold my excitement back and maintain my focus as I complete this page. |