WEBVTT

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The fourth ceremony, "Raphael."

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The little man lies drowsing,
curled up under white hangings

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when a voice of
gentlest thunder charges

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the expectant atmosphere.

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It is the twinkling
Lord of Earth.

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Hear, hear.

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Yes, babe, today
your name you'll hear

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from your old grandfather Clay.

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Yes, yes, long dear,
long doubting Thomas.

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Lend an ear and with a
kiss I whisper in it Tom.

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DJ, that's his new name.

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So it would seem the cast
of the next Rake assembling?

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They work fast.

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Now with your strong
little foot a kick.

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Sound number two, down
through live caves and tunnels

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her cry comes to you.

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The tiny figure
winces at the cry

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and squeezes its face
shut despairingly.

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Now 4/5 babe, your last but one
gift, receive from me this gun.

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Eyes open.

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Fingers curl about the flute,
a blowgun, witty Raphael.

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To shoot music into the
world's ears from your heart.

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Remember your name,
Tom, and start.

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Again, the kick,
the mother's cry.

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One glance from Raphael and
the portrait is no more.

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A pinch of dry, used
color dusts the floor.

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Faint sanguine plots the
newly primed expanse.

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Dust.

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Dust to dust.

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Go, go.

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And, gravely, he goes also.

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Black out in the nursery.

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The next day, midday heat.

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A growing restlessness
pervades the household,

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each room stuffy, small.

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JM seeks out the keyboard,
Mozart falling open to K. 576,

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twice attempts the
opening movement's closing

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bars, a glint with sweet
shifts of nuance and pace,

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stars in a brook.

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DJ drifting downstairs knows
it's too soon but has this

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funny feeling that
if we started now..

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JM,

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Yes, yes.

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Out with Board and
cup, which in a trice--