Starting in silence,
Then the softly stirring harps,
The quiet violins,
Playing small notes but sharp.
Gradual beginning,
Building more and more,
But still a tiny whisper,
In the quiet of the morn.
The pace begins to quicken,
The stir is now a flash,
Climbing higher on forever,
Epic grandeur unmasked.
All is filled with power,
Trumpets chorus, drums pound,
Deep within my heart is music,
But without me not a sound.
Sound as big as earth,
The climax has been reached,
Then silence falls a hammer,
As the tear rolls down my cheek.
In the grandness and the glory,
The whole symphony would soar,
But now a lonely string or two,
Playing softly, nothing more.
I sit alone in silence,
The strings now gently mourn,
No great tragedy befallen,
But a loneliness is borne.
Out of tears I smile,
And the trumpets take the show,
A clarinet weaves a jumpin' tune,
Swingin', go, cat, go!
The sadness that lingered,
Now the jazz that flies,
Rolling up to climax,
My heart begins to rise.
But then the music softens,
A tender tune now plays,
She I see before me,
Is perfect in every way.
I sit still quiet,
But not to mourn,
The love that lives within me,
Is only a little forlorn.
The violins return now,
The trumpets give it quiet strength,
The love-songs that my heart plays,
Make me sigh, at length.
My heart moves on,
The music is new,
The day is swiftly passing,
The night is now in view.
The beginning grandeur,
How it has waned,
The fragile melancholy,
Only a memory of rain.
And when the night comes,
The violins fill the lull,
Like audible emotions,
Whispering quiet to my soul.
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