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If all the music ever played

all notes that soar from then to now

were gathered here


In theatrical concert

a vast and jangling choir

of tuning up


Before the future dawns, Gregorian monks

with cornets taking their places besides

wigged and perfumed court musicians


Woodwind and brass, cymbals and

alpine yodels, guitar and sax

a massed ensemble with a million throats


All hushing now then to a thunderous

roar of clapping, the Grand Composer

strides up to his podium, raises his arms


And silence falls.  If all the congregations

of discord condensed from

ever changing key and cadence


Were about to link their arms

and harmonize an anthem for tomorrow

would Ode to Joy reverberating upwards


Usher in the symphony of the spheres

a waterfall of sound to glitter causing

angel echoes from a snowflaked sky


Or would they coalesce into a single song

played by a white sleeved child

interpreting the birds upon a bamboo flute

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© Johnmichael Simon



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