THOUGHTS OF A POET IN THE RAIN

Oops. I’m sitting here at the end of the day listening to Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. Along with the music is a video. Both the music and the video are breathtaking.  That’s why I say oops. Basically, I am reveling in the beauty of the music and the art. And in essence, I am caught, exposed, amid my fascination.  My heart wants to take flight, my soul wishes to embrace the universe. Is there not agony with the ecstasy? Can one be so enraptured by a single note or visual cue, a memory, a scent? I don’t know. Is the poet’s soul cursed with being alive both with what can be seen, heard, felt, visualized, or imagined, and with life itself? I am unsure. I simply know that there is a difference between the two but cannot explain the difference, can you?