Alban Berg

This is the vanishing, the farewell:
Evanescence is our music…
Superabundance and infinitesimal detail
Disintegrate finally into nothingness,
A sigh of resignation,
Suspended.
Yes, I acquiesce,
Insubstantial, indecisive,
And wanting.
The weak and defeated also sing.
My song, at its climax,
Renounces its own vanity,
Annihilates desire.
External circumstance does not perturb my core:
I favour odd angles, walk with nonchalant gait,
Wry smile anticipating catastrophe.
My soul crafts architecture of its own,
Exhaustively researching, experimenting,
Exquisitely discriminating,
Vain happiness to find.
To love the impossible, and serve the dream:
Out of a multitude of sounds,
The single note,
A tremulous threshold.
And because I so love chaos
I fasten on form,
And, clinging to life,
Give it away to a passing stranger.