the music may die, soon
we will watch
as it fades and recedes
into the corners
of utter sadness, or perhaps be
forgotten
still,
until it does
let me feel its rhythm as my blood,
its beat nudging, consciousness
reminds me of each minute
ticked away in search
waiting and hoping
only to find
that the music played for me
from the start,
to the end,
it does
raise my soul unto the peak
of fleeting joy and lasting madness
the melancholic pauses,
the brilliant gaps..
a crescendo that shall be
heard last
then, everything else
stops
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