go out of tune as knobs unwind--
while dust collects on carvèd wood
and horsehairs break from base of bow.
No pattern does the eye seek out,
nor theme the ear desires to trace--
the body casts off every form
that chained the soul from listening.
Their nimble touch the fingers lose,
and mind forgets the ordered notes;
the feet a meter cease to keep,
but heart comes loose of music's weight.