peeling walls, cracked floors
dusty filigrees, in fake gold,
kitsch figurines, cheap watercolours;
Jerusalem hangs on the wall.

the music played, and I heard the viola
- often lost between the violin and cello -
but this time, I heard the viola sang:
peaceful and pure, wise and warm.

life, petty, greedy and ******,
dissolves in ethereal beauty;
you can take all my money:
I’ve seen heaven, and life’s worthy after all.