Music Is The Master

Everyone is here, they think, to see the master play. 
But the master is the music, and the music makes the day. 
Wind and rain and dirt and mud, the ground is almost split.
But unifying all the world, the music comes from it.

To the North, I feel the cold, to the South as well.
To the West and from the East, the Sun’s own heat does swell. 
Look inside your own true heart, and realize the day
Is only half of what there is, and darkness does take sway. 

But darkness is not to be feared, as music conquers all. 
Daylight’s not to be revered, as music makes its call. 
Old or young, ill or well, the melodies do speak.
They come together, unison, and chase away the bleak.

Music’s master, (or its servant?) never will it rest
Tunes are turning, heads exploring, puts us to the test
Lyrics flowing, rhymes and meter, universal speech
From a deep place, within one’s soul, that is its mystique

Where’s the future? When is past and what becomes of now?
In reflection, nothing matters, but this solemn vow
Music is our revolution, music has us rapt
Music heals us, helps us, finds us, when we’re feeling trapped

Roger D. Linder: FAWM 2022
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