The One Imperial Realm
The realm of music is where emperor kings
Can meet within a tent of cloth of gold
And where one billion Stradivari strings
Would play if they were bought and then enrolled
In heavens where composers want to be.
The irony unending is that chords
And notes and harmony and melody
Are transient forever. Noble lords
Can never change that sacred fact. The soul
Of music’s beauty is its meaning’s brief
Perfection in the air of time. The whole
Music’s definition comes from grief.
Vibrations from this realm pass through our hearts
And nothing can compete with music’s arts.
© Phillip Whidden 
0 Comments