What magic spark invests the minds
Of the weaver, who with common thread
Weaves an uncommonly beautiful cloth?
How does that spark enter the mind of men
Like Socrates, Mozart or Edison?
Would the clay from which these came
Be different from John Smith, farmer—
Joe Joseph—laborer, or Jake the tailor?
Why does some very obscure couple
Produce an Elizabeth Barrett Browning
And no one else that can compare?
How did Edgar Allan Poe know which words
Would make The Raven so eternal?
How do Paderewski’s fingers produce
Such glorious sounds on his piano
When mine sound like hail on a roof of tin?
Is there a single spark coursing
Through eternal time that skips
About from place to place to touch
Whomever it may strike by chance, or
Is it somehow programmed to appear
At designated times and places
To remind us of the fragility of “class”?
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