As the sound of the music plays, its melodies sway, every note

conveys, the eloquence of its harmony moving man to

its very being, since the beginning, there was sound, extravagant,

benevolent, unpresumptuous, sound, it has

shaken the ground, moved mountains, created legends, formed

and destroyed nations, a harmonic sound

in a multitude of arrangements, always good never

bad, invariably discontent, never wrong, re-shaped, re-formed, to

its environment it tends to conform, endlessly

changing, making, creating, something new, extravagant,

invisible but never gone, slowed but never silenced, an

impact on the grandest scale, all pales in comparison to its

power, its limitations eclipse that of the highest tower, a master at its

peak in performance, strumming its vessel as if it were

a cannon at its enemies, or the most graceful rose

bestowed upon thy fair maiden, its tune used to laden what

 longs to filled, a skilled harmonic

able to infect an entire room, stand still, at its will, we all

tend to bend, whether it be of this day or the

day we ascend, we all make amends, and remember the very first time

that we thought ourselves muted, then we

heard the marvel that is music.