Friends, Cello Music, and Poetry

We had dinner this evening with a great friend of ours, Va. Good food, good company. What's not to like - as the saying goes. At the end of the meal, we stepped outside for some moon-watching, on this eve when the moon appears larger than usual.

Va reads my blog and noted my fondness for the cello. This evening she brought with her a CD of improvisations on the cello as inspired by the Tao Te Ching. We listened to it when we arrived back home - you would swear, were you one to swear, there was a cello, cellist included, in the living room. The CD is wonderful.

The 14th track had/has a repeated phrase that caught my ear - and, clearly, started wheels turning.

When they'd finished, the following presented itself:


A voice cries...

What is this place?
Where is this place?
I strike the doors
     the walls
Nothing yields,
I've never seen this place.
Why am I here?

Someone tell me!
Won't someone tell me?

Another voice cries...

I've always been here.
Never able to leave.
I strike the doors
      the walls
Nothing yields.
I've never been elsewhere.
Why cannot I leave?

Someone tell me!
Won't someone tell me?

Both voices - mine.