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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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