Ode to Salieri, in Prose

Amadeus is one of my favorite movies of all time, partly because it is full of Mozart's music, but also because I feel such compassion for Mozart's enemy, Salieri--that poor, bitter man who wanted nothing more than to burn with the divine fire in his own compositions. He longed, through his music, to fly, to soar to celestial heights. Instead he could only flutter about, grounded like a broken-winged bird that knows what it is made for, but because of its brokenness can only reach for the sky, without ever reaching it. He was jealous, yes; he was eaten up with darkness, yes; but I understand him and I feel so sad for him. I can see how dreadfully he both hated and loved Mozart--nothing but a yowling, vulgar brat in the movie, but oh! what beauty ran in his veins and out through his fingers, in the shape of hundreds of thousands of inky dots all over lines, which, when translated into sound, can move strong men to tears (if they would let it).

And so it did to you, Salieri, for you were not insensitive, nor unpassionate. And it was not your mediocrity that destroyed you; rather what killed your soul was the knowledge, the heart-wrenching understanding that your very best efforts could not make you better than what you were. Such self-realization, when untempered by a transcendent grace (which would have whispered in your heart that it didn't matter, that you were loved, that your gifts were not wasted where they were offered in true love and devotion) is a devastating, desolating thing.

Ah, Salieri, great heart. The burden was too much for you, and I am very sorry.