Was it Schumann?

At the call of dawn, I am sure I will only here one thing... the cries of Schumann. His forbidden love Clara spoke of their first kiss "all went dark and I could scarcely hold the lamp still to light my path".
A man who's birth rests a mere four days beyond my own but alas, a century before. I can only begin to wonder and ponder the commonalities among us.
I heard his musings, that of "Florestan" and "Eusebius" and I was immediately in trance. I was thrust into a world I could only imagine as my own.

Is this work my past? Am I Schumann?
With my abilities now coming so freely, so naturally at ease?

However unlike Robert, my right hand remains overwhelmingly dominant. Is this the result of overcompensation for my previous lack of judgment? Has fate twisted itself to accommodate for the belligerence of the past? Our busts are remarkably alike. Honor to that of the great romantic, the charismatic fool that was he.

Perhaps I am just the fool.