Monday, March 23, 2009

A song, a melody, a symphony and a ditty. The notes we write and the scores we fill. Each our parts to play, an orchestra our fates to seal. The world a mere stage, the audience but ourselves. We dance, we cry, we sing and we fly. Each part performed, with parts to come. The chorus spinning into concertos dancing into ballet most gracious. Drums clashing with heavy mteals' roar, picolos' whistling glorious summers' light. Each part performed, with parts to come. Life is nothing without a song and a dance, for we are the song and the dance. The world is but a stage and our lives the ever ending score.


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