Conversing with Mozart: Dva

"Is it you, again,
dear Mozart?"
I stared at him
on my wall, dangling
his little tears falling
like the rain of a true
stormed poetic heart

"My dear," he whispered
"you can not know the fate
of loving two cities
but never quite having
either in full."

He choked, fighting
another round
then continued,

"I loved her first,
my sweet Salzburg
but it was Praha
that showed me how to trace
a lover's spine
with the breath of song."

I sat up, quite awake now.

"But I do, dear Amadeus,
for I, too, have loved
the skeleton of an empire
and then been besotted again
by the lines of trees."

"And do you think," he began
composing himself
"that it can ever be enough?"

I waited, knowing
he needed my words that way
and finally, I spoke.

"I fear it will never be all
nor will it ever lack in full
we will instead feel
the incandescence of joy
while rowing through
our torrents of sorrow."

He sighed, eyelashes coming down
like a curtain around him.

"But it will be enough
I suppose
to keep us here."

And he was right
even then
at 3am
but even rightness
has a sadness
and he was of two loves
that would not let him go.