We called him only ‘Maestro’:
Nothing as common as a name would do!
He would talk and we would listen,
Stars and sea bound willingly
To the thrum of his voice, and the infinite
Gorgons produced by that throated violin.
They say he died, somewhere
In the California desert of 1986;
But man says many things, and so I set
Out to witness his rebirth.
A body they exhibited—what clever replication!
Even the broken capillaries upon his cheeks reforged! And yet
Why did its mouth hold still? Where went
The air besides the nose? Abhorrent thing! You possess
Less than zero of His being. Can you reconjure
A boundless night from nothing
But the force of your belief?
Inspired by Alex Gibney’s excellent documentary on Scientology.