The Note

To get to the heart of the story, one must go back to the beginning
To the simple musical note hummed by the composer
Before he composed a majestic symphony of  thousand sounds
To be played by the mightiest of orchestras, wildly delighted
Never shall the note be lost, and never shall it be alone
For it will dance in harmony with its peers, creating beauty
In music so bold and simple in its complexity
That never shall it end, for never shall it want to
As the hairs of the bows whither and the strings of the woods break
The brass shudder by the might of the sounds
And the skins tremble with every beat of the muscled drummer
On they play, the humble messengers, the musicians
The artistes of sound, paintings pictures captured only by the wise
On their minds so deep that eternity might find its home there

Play on, my friends, as we drink late into the night
Excelling at camouflaging ourselves from reality, the truth of life
Where the future may be too hideous to envisage
Which is why the past must be known, the core of the being
The reasons, the causes of the effects, the answers to this question
Of who we are, of why we are, where we come from, to where we go
If I were a huge statue, I would prefer to stand on a deserted island
Where nobody could see me, stare at me, ask useless questions
And I could peer over the waters until I understood why
The sun rose in the morning and then set without fail
To be followed by the moon and the stars, gracing us
Regardless of how small we are, how small I am
But a very important part of the puzzle, the grand scale
Like the first note hummed by the great composer, the first note

One thought on “The Note

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