What happens when the music stops?
Does it mean there is no more song to sing?
A cadence interrupted at crescendo’s peak?
A penultimate made final by Maestro’s baton.
If heavy rests hang in subsequent measures,
Then I feel more acutely the weight of my mistakes;
Every off-key note sung or tempo change ignored.
Every day spent rhythmless, shunning both
Simple straight eights or Life’s meandering syncopation.
May the music last forever.
But if all music must end,
With the resonance of harmonies
Slowly retreating as silence rolls in,
I would hold on to the echoes.
Or sustain String's first sound.
A raw, unmuted note capturing
The love, pain, joy, and mischief
Reverberations often reflect.
If all music must end,
My role would shift
From listener to performer.
No longer content to witness the song around me
Without weaving the song into myself
Until my cells swell with the chorus of trillions
Adding harmonies to Life’s composition.
If all music must end,
I’ll play the Musician.
Master of my fate
With a chance to live my song
Beyond the measures
And to not witness my song
From the box.
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