Well Bottom Blues

Will it swallow us whole as it has devoured all knowledge ever printed or filmed, every song ever recorded, as it digests your question and feeds it to build the threshing linkages driving it ever onward without a throttle?

Let poets step forward and cast the first stone into the works.

Sonnets to Orpheus: The Second Part

X 

ALL we have achieved, the machine threatens to rule, 
So long as it sways the spirit instead of obeying alone, 
Unless the illustrious hand lingers longer upon the tool, 
For the more resolute work starkly cuts the stone.

It nowhere remains behind so we might escape its zest 
And oiling in silent factories it would be self-employed. 
It is life,—thinks it knows best, 
Having with equal resolve equipped, produced, destroyed.

But existence is still enchanted. Is at a hundred or more 
Points in its origins still: a playing of pure forces 
That no one touches who does not marvel and kneel before. 

Words still fail before the unsayable sources . . . 
And music, ever new, puts pulsating stones in place. 
To build her god-like house in unusable space.

— Rilke