by Kevin T McEneaney
If we possessed all Greek literature,
painting, and sculpture, we’d be overwhelmed,
proceed to learn, study Greek dialects,
while their music would be irrelevant.
Vivaldi’s one hundred lost operas
make me curious, even if they all
sounded like the same on-going fiddle—
not all lost works are sure masterpieces.
All life is a fresh, renewing river
where the flow never repeats itself.
The central tragedy is that the arts
often become sacrificial victim
to ignorance, prejudice, politics.
Yet adept artists turn loss into gain.
