He sat, consumed.
Tiny in the monumental space.
Seated in the crucible of
the Gods.
Possessed by a young French woman
channeling the Enlightened Ones.
Universal Buddhist chant
with a French twist.
God of music become instrument.
Arms and legs of the infinite
bound in pipes and air.
The sunrise light shifting
and traveling with notes.
After years of meditation,
I am in the body of the Buddha
just like that.
Inside the breath, the beat,
beyond the bounds of the body.
The conductor, the musician,
transcendent instrument -
voice of the infinite -
captured, imprinted,
born in an improbable Houston hall.
Metaphor of man.
Purveyor of possibility.
Agent of awareness.
So humble and wondrous -
he knows not yet what he creates.

Jenna Wayne
October 3, 2008

This poem is dedicated to Phillip Kloeckner and the Edythe Bates Old Grand Organ and Recital Hall at Rice University’s Shepherd School of Music.